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THE  TEMPLE  EDITION 


OF  THE 

COMEDIE  HU  MAINE 

Edited,  by 

GEORGE  SAINTSBURY 


All  rights  reserved 


LIBWAKY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  of  ILLINOI 


if" 


Translated -by 
‘ELLEN  MARRIAGE' 


Wi  i h'a'Frorrti  sp i  see 
etched  *tvy 

W^BOUCHER. 


*  19  01* 
fHE^MACMIU‘7\J 
,,  *  COMPANY- 

66  fifth  rr>s  v/^tn  avenue  n 

.y°RIs^ 

[i% 


'JHS'fts-' 

OX 


Copyright,  1898, 

By  J.  M.  Dent  and  Co. 


I 


Norwood  Press 

y .  S.  Cushing  &  Co. — Berwick  £jf  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.  S.  A. 


Hep 


iP 

|  $ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  GONDREVILLE  MYSTERY 

I.  THE  TRIALS  OF  THE  POLICE  -  •  •  •  1 

II.  CORENTIN? S  REVENGE  .  •  •  •  •  Il8 

III.  A  POLITICAL  TRIAL  IN  THE  TIME  OF  THE  EMPIRE  .  I  JO 
CONCLUSION  .  .  •  •  •  0  .2  25 

an  EPISODE  OF  THE  TERROR  o  o  o  .240 


* 


3 


: . .  t 


<4S 


V 


G> 


A  GONDREVILLE  MYSTERY 


To  Monsieur  de  Margoney  from  his  grateful  guest 
at  Chateau  de  Sachey  de  Balzac 

i 

THE  TRIALS  OF  THE  POLICE 

The  autumn  of  the  year  1803  was  one  of  the  finest  during 
the  Empire  Period,  as  we  call  the  earliest  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Rain  had  fallen  in  October;  the  fields 
were  refreshed ;  and  the  green  leaves  were  still  on  the  trees 
in  mid-November.  Wherefore  people  were  beginning  to 
believe  in  a  covenant  between  heaven  and  Bonaparte,  then 
recently  declared  Consul  for  life.  This  belief  was  one 
among  many  to  which  he  owed  his  magical  influence ;  and 
(strange  coincidence!)  when  the  sun  failed  him  in  1812, 
his  prosperity  came  to  an  end. 

Towards  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  on  the  fif¬ 
teenth  of  November,  1803,  the  sunlight  fell  like  a  crimson 
dust  over  the  crests  of  two  double  rows  of  ancient  elms 
in  a  long  and  lordly  avenue  —  and  lighted  up  the  sand 
and  the  bents  of  grass  about  one  of  those  vast  circular 
spaces  which  you  may  see  near  country  seats;  for  land 
in  former  times  was  worth  so  little  that  it  could  be 
sacrificed  to  ornament.  The  air  was  so  pure,  the  even¬ 
ing  so  mild,  that  the  family  from  the  lodge  were  sitting 
out  of  doors  as  if  it  were  summer-time.  A  man  in  a 
green  canvas  shooting-coat  with  green  buttons,  breeches 


2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

of  the  same  material,  linen  gaiters  reaching  to  the  knees , 
and  thin-soled  walking-shoes,  was  busy  cleaning  a  rifle 
with  that  punctilious  care  which  a  skilled  sportsman 
bestows  on  his  weapon  in  leisure  moments.  This  man, 
however,  had  neither  pouch  nor  game-bag,  nor  any  of  a-* 
sportsman’s  accoutrements,  and  an  ill-disguised  dread 
seemed  to  weigh  upon  the  minds  of  the  two  women  who 
sat  watching  him.  Indeed,  if  any  one  else  had  been  look¬ 
ing  on  at  this  scene  from  behind  one  of  the  bushes,  he  mustt 
have  shuddered  with  the  man’s  wife  and  the  old  mother- 
in-law.  Clearly,  no  sportsman  takes  such  minute  pains 
for  a  day’s  shooting ;  nor,  in  the  department  of  Aube,  does 
he  carry  a  heavy  rifle.  , 

c  Are  you  going  buck-shooting,  Michu  ?  ’  asked  his 
pretty  young  wife,  forcing  a  smile. 

Michu  did  not  answer  her  at  once.  He  turned  his 
attention  to  the  dog  that  was  lying  out  in  the  sunshine 
with  his  muzzle  on  his  outstretched  paws,  in  the  charming 
attitude  peculiar  to  sporting  dogs.  This  animal  had  raised 
his  head  and  was  snuffing  the  wind,  first  in  the  direction 
of  the  avenue  that  stretched  away  for  more  than  half  a 
mile,  and  then  again  towards  a  cross-road  which  came  out 
to  the  left  of  the  great  circle. 

c  No,’  said  Michu,  at  length.  4  It  is  a  monster  that  I 
do  not  mean  to  miss ;  it  is  a  lynx.’ 

The  dog,  a  very  handsome  brown  and  white  spaniel, 
began  to  growl. 

c  Good,’  muttered  Michu.  4  Spies  !  The  country  swarms 
with  them.’ 

Madame  Michu,  a  beautiful  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  woman, 
with  a  grave,  thoughtful  face  and  a  form  moulded  like  an 
antique  statue,  raised  her  eyes  sorrowfully  to  the  sky. 
Some  dark  and  bitter  trouble  seemed  to  weigh  upon  her.  , 
The  man’s  looks  to  some  extent  justified  the  woman’s 
fears.  The  laws  of  physiognomy  are  exact  not  merely  in 
their  application  to  character,  but  also  in  forecasting  the 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  3 

j 

future.  Some  faces  are  prophetic.  If  it  were  possible  to 
obtain  faithful  portraits  of  all  who  die  upon  the  scaffold 
(and  these  statistics  from  the  life  are  of  importance  to 
}  society),  the  science  of  Gall  and  Lavater  would  prove 
incontestably  that  there  were  strange  tokens  on  all  of  those 
faces,  even  among  the  guiltless.  Yes,  Fate  sets  a  mark 
on  the  countenances  of  those  that  are  destined  to  die  a  vio- 
.  lent  death ;  and  that  seal  was  visible  for  experienced  eyes 
on  the  expressive  face  of  the  man  with  the  rifle. 

Michu  was  short  and  stout ;  and  jerky  and  nimble  in  his 
movements  as  a  monkey.  He  was  a  man  of  quiet  temper, 
but  his  countenance  of  the  squat  Kalmuck  type,  his  white 
skin  streaked  with  tiny  distended  blood  vessels,  and  red 
crisp  hair,  gave  him  a  sinister  look.  His  eyes  were  like  a 
tiger’s,  tawny  and  clear ;  you  might  gaze  down  into  their 
,  uttermost  depths,  they  neither  kindled  nor  moved.  Steady, 
bright,  unblenching,  they  grew  intolerable  at  last.  The 
continual  contrast  between  the  man’s  quick  alertness  and 
the  unchanging  eyes  added  to  the  glacial  impression  which 
>  Michu  made  upon  you  at  first  sight.  Here  was  a  man 
prompt  to  act,  a  man  whose  whole  power  of  action  was 
controlled  by  one  fixed  idea ;  even  as  in  animals  the  creat¬ 
ure’s- life  is  entirely  subordinated  to  unreflecting  instinct. 

Since  1793  Michu  had  worn  a  fan-shaped  beard,  a  pecul- 
*  iarity  which  would  have  lent  a  formidable  look  to  his  face 
even  if  he  had  not  been  the  president  of  a  Jacobin  club 
during  the  Terror.  The  flat-nosed  Socratic  visage  was 
crowned  by  a  noble  forehead,  so  curved,  however,  that  it 
1  seemed  to  overhang  the  face  beneath  it ;  the  well-set  ears 
seemed  ready  to  move  like  the  ears  of  a  wild  animal  and 
always  on  the  alert.  The  mouth  was  always  open  (a 
habit  common  enough  among  countrymen),  so  that  you 
4  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  strong  teeth,  white  as  almonds, 
but  irregular.  Thick  glossy  whiskers  framed  the  pale  face 
with  its  purpled  patches;  while  the  tawny  red  of  the  hair, 
cropped  close  in  front,  but  left  to  grow  at  the  sides  and 


4  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

back  of  the  head,  did  their  part  to  perfection  in  bringing* 
out  all  the  strangeness,  all  the  signs  of  fate,  in  the  man’s 
appearance.  His  short  thick  neck  seemed  to  tempt  the 
hatchet  of  the  law. 

At  this  moment  the  slanting  shafts  of  sunlight  fell  full 1 
upon  the  faces  of  the  three  people  at  whom  the  dog  looked 
up  in  turn ;  and  the  theatre  in  which  the  scene  was  enacted 
was,  moreover,  a  most  noble  one. 

The  circular  space  lay  at  the  furthest  extremity  of  the'’ 
park  of  Gondreville,  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  France 
and  unquestionably  the  finest  in  the  department  of  the 
Aube,  with  its  chateau  built  from  Mansard’s  designs,  its 
magnificent  avenues  of  elm  trees,  its  fifteen  hundred  acres  1 
of  park  enclosed  with  walls,  its  nine  large  farms,  its  forest, 
mills,  and  meadows.  Before  the  Revolution  this  almost 
princely  domain  belonged  to  the  Simeuse  family.  Ximeuse 
is  a  fief  in  Lorraine.  The  name  is  pronounced  Simeuse ,  and  , 
in  the  end  the  spelling  followed  the  pronunciation. 

The  great  fortune  of  the  Simeuses,  a  noble  family 
attached  to  the  House  of  Burgundy,  dated  back  to  the  , 
times  when  the  Guises  overshadowed  the  Valois.  After-  > 
wards,  neither  Richelieu  nor  Louis  XIV  forgot  their  devo¬ 
tion  to  the  factious  House  of  Lorraine,  and  the  Simeuses 
were  out  of  favour  at  court.  So  the  marquis  of  that  day  — 
an  old  Burgundian,  an  old  Guisard,  Leaguer,  and  Frondeur, 
heir  to  the  four  great  grudges  which  the  noblesse  bare  the  ^ 
crown  —  came  to  live  at  Cinq-Cygne,  a  courtier  driven 
from  the  court  of  the  Louvre.  He  had  married  the  widow 
of  the  Comte  de  Cinq-Cygne,  the  younger  branch  of  the  « 
great  House  of  Chargeboeuf,  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
families  of  Champagne ;  though  the  Cinq-Cygnes  were 
wealthier  than  the  elder  line  and  at  least  as  famous. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse,  « 
one  of  the  richest  nobles  of  the  age,  built  Gondreville 
instead  of  ruining  himself  at  court,  and  rounded  out  the 
estate  with  broad  lands  simply  to  add  to  his  great  game 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  5 

preserves.  It  was  he  who  built  the  Hotel  de  Simeuse,  near 
the  Hotel  de  Cinq-Cygne  at  Troyes  (the  two  old  mansions 
and  the  bishop’s  palace  were  the  only  stone  buildings  in 
,  the  city  for  a  long  while),  and  it  was  he,  likewise,  who  sold 
Ximeuse  to  the  Duke  of  Lorraine. 

His  son  wasted  his  father’s  savings  and  even  broke  into 
his  fine  fortune  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XV,  but  he 
?  entered  the  navy,  became  a  commodore  and  a  vice-admiral, 
and  redeemed  his  youthful  follies  by  splendid  services  to  the 
state.  The  Admiral’s  eldest  son,  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse, 
died  on  the  scaffold  at  Troyes  during  the  Revolution,  leav¬ 
ing  twin  sons  who  at  that  moment  were  following  the 
fortunes  of  the  House  of  Conde  as  emigres. 

The  great  circular  space  was  the  place  where  the  hunt 
met  in  the  time  of  the  Great  Marquis  (for  so  the  builder 
»  of  Gondreville  was  called  in  the  family),  and  a  hunting 
lodge  had  been  built  within  the  park  walls  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.  It  was  here  in  the  Cinq-Cygne  lodge,  as  it 
was  called,  that  Michu  had  lived  since  1789.  The  village 
’  of  Cinq-Cygne  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  Forest  of  Nodesme 
(a  corruption  of  Notre  Dame ),  and  the  way  to  the  village 
was  through  the  double  avenue  of  elm  trees,  the  quarter  in 
which  Couraut  got  wind  of  spies.  The  lodge  had  fallen 
completely  into  disuse  since  the  time  of  the  Great  Marquis, 
'  the  Admiral  knew  more  of  the  court  or  the  high  seas 
than  of  his  lands  in  Champagne,  and  his  son,  the  late 
Marquis,  had  made  over  the  dilapidated  house  to  Michu 
for  a  dwelling. 

4  It  was  a  noble  brick  building  with  reticulated  corner¬ 
stones  and  facings.  A  handsome  but  rust-eaten  wrought- 
iron  gateway  on  either  side  abutted  upon  a  broad  deep 
ha-ha  with  great  trees  springing  up  on  its  sides,  and  para- 
v  pets  bristling  with  iron  scroll-work,  which  confronted 
intruders  with  a  formidable  array  of  spikes. 

The  park  walls  only  began  beyond  the  circumference  of 
the  circle.  The  imposing  half-moon  without  was  enclosed 


6 


A  Gondreville  Mystery 

by  a  bank  with  elm  trees  growing  upon  it;  the  correspond^ 
ing  inner  half  being  outlined  by  clumps  of  foreign  trees. 
So  the  hunting  lodge  stood  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the 
space  traced  out  by  the  two  horseshoes.  ^ 

Michu  used  the  great  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  as 
stable,  cow  shed,  and  kitchen.  Nothing  of  all  the  ancient 
splendour  of  the  place  was  left  save  the  hall  paved  with 
marble,  white  and  black,  which  you  entered  from  the  side* 
of  the  park,  by  one  of  those  glass  doors  with  little  square 
panes,  which  you  used  to  see  at  Versailles  before  Louis 
Philippe  turned  that  palace  into  a  hospital  for  the  departed 
‘glories  of  France.’ 

Within,  the  lodge  was  divided  in  two  by  a  wooden  stair¬ 
case,  old-fashioned  and  worm-eaten,  but  not  wanting  in 
character.  There  were  five  somewhat  low  rooms  on  the 
first  floor,  and  a  vast  garret  up  above  in  the  roof,  for  the « 
venerable  edifice  was  crowned  by  a  four-sided  roof,  ter¬ 
minating  in  a  ridge  with  a  leaden  finial  at  either  end  by 
way  of  ornament. 

Michu  stored  his  fodder  in  this  garret,  which  was  lighted  ■ 
by  four  bull’s-eye  windows  of  the  kind  affected,  and  not  v 
without  reason,  by  Mansard  ;  for  the  flat  Italian  roof  and 
low  attic  storey  is  an  absurdity  against  which  our  French 
climate  protests. 

The  park  about  the  old  hunting-lodge  was  planned  out  - 
in  the  English  fashion.  A  lake,  or  rather  a  sheet  of  water 
that  once  had  been  a  lake  and  was  now  a  mere  pond,  well 
stocked  with  fish,  manifested  its  presence  by  a  film  of  mist 
that  hung  above  the  tree-tops,  and,  no  less,  by  the  croaking  4 
of  hundreds  of  frogs  and  sounds  made  by  noisy  amphibious 
creatures  after  sunset.  The  pervading  sense  of  crumbling 
age  and  decay,  the  deep  silence  in  the  woods,  the  avenue 
stretching  away  into  the  distance,  the  far-off  forest,  :he  * 
rust-eaten  ironwork,  the  massive  stones  clad  in  velvet  moss, 
—  these  and  a  thousand  little  things  combined  to  lend  an 
idyllic  grace  to  a  building  which  remains  to  this  day. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  7 

At  the  time  of  the  opening  of  this  story,  Michu  was 
leaning  against  the  moss-covered  parapet.  His  powder- 
flask,  cap,  and  handkerchief  were  lying  on  the  wall  beside 
«him,  together  with  a  screwdriver,  some  bits  of  rag  and  odd 
tools  required  for  his  suspicious  operations.  His  wife  was 
sitting  just  outside  the  lodge,  almost  under  the  doorway 
where  the  richly-carved  armorial  bearings  of  the  Simeuse 
family  and  their  noble  motto  Si  meurs !  still  remained 
intact ;  and  her  mother,  dressed  like  a  peasant  woman, 
had  put  her  chair  just  in  front,  so  that  Madame  Michu’s 
feet  might  rest  on  the  rungs  and  not  on  the  damp  ground. 
\  c  Is  the  boy  here  ?  ’  Michu  asked  of  his  wife. 

c  He  is  roaming  somewhere  about  the  pond,’  said  the 
mother ;  c  he  is  crazy  over  frogs  and  insects.’ 

Michu  gave  an  alarming  whistle,  and  his  son  came  run- 
*  ning  up  at  once.  Evidently  the  bailiff  at  Gondreville 
was  master  in  his  own  house,  and  since  1789,  and  still 
more  since  1793,  he  had  done  pretty  much  as  he  liked  on 
the  estate.  His  wife  and  her  mother,  a  young  lad  named 
Gaucher,  and  Marianne,  the  servant  girl,  were  all  afraid 
of  him,  and  so  was  everybody  else  for  a  score  of  miles 
around.  The  causes  of  this  feeling  of  terror  should  perhaps 
be  given  without  further  delay,  for  in  this  way  Michu’s  por¬ 
trait  will  be  completed  by  a  sketch  of  his  character. 

The  old  Marquis  de  Simeuse  had  parted  with  most  of 
his  property  in  1790;  but  events  moved  too  quickly  for 
him  ;  he  had  not  time  to  put  the  great  Gondreville  estate 
in  trustworthy  hands.  Accused  of  corresponding  with 
1  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  and  the  Prince  of  Coburg,  the 
Marquis  de  Simeuse  and  his  wife  were  imprisoned  and 
condemned  to  death  by  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  of 
Troyes,  under  the  presidency  of  Madame  Michu’s  father. 
The  great  estate  was  therefore  sold  by  the  nation.  People 
noticed  at  the  time,  with  something  like  a  thrill  of  horror, 
that  the  old  Marquis’s  head  gamekeeper,  the  president 
of  the  Arcis  Jacobin  club,  had  come  to  Troyes  to  be 


8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

present  at  the  execution.  Michu  was  an  orphan,  and  the 
son  of  a  simple  peasant.  The  Marquise  had  loaded  him 
with  kindnesses ;  she  had  taken  him  as  a  child  into  the 
chateau  and  had  given  him  the  head  keeper’s  place.  , 
Lofty  patriotism  regarded  Michu  as  a  second  Brutus ;  but 
no  one  in  the  country-side  would  recognize  him  after  that 
piece  of  flagrant  ingratitude. 

The  buyer  of  the  estate  was  a  man  from  Arcis,  one 
Marion,  whose  grandfather  had  been  land-steward  to  the 
Simeuses.  This  Marion,  a  barrister  before  and  after  the 
Revolution,  was  afraid  of  the  keeper,  and  employed  him 
as  bailiff  with  a  salary  of  three  thousand  livres  and  a  com¬ 
mission  on  the  sales  of  timber.  Michu  was  supposed  to 
have  some  ten  thousand  francs  of  his  own  already,  when, 
with  his  reputation  for  patriotism  to  recommend  him,  he 
married  the  daughter  of  a  tanner  at  Troyes.  His  father-  , 
in-law  was  the  apostle  of  Revolution  in  the  town  and  the 
president  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  A  man  of  con¬ 
victions,  not  unlike  Saint  Just  in  character,  he  was  mixed 
up  afterwards  in  the  Babeuf  conspiracy  and  committed 
suicide  to  escape  trial.  Marthe,  his  daughter,  was  the 
prettiest  girl  in  Troyes,  and  therefore  she  had  been  obliged 
by  her  formidable  parent  to  personate  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty  on  a  Republican  high  day. 

Marion,  the  proprietor  of  Gondreville,  scarcely  came  to  - 
the  place  three  times  in  seven  years.  His  grandfather  had 
been  the  Simeuses’  land-steward;  and  all  Arcis  believed  at 
the  time  that  Citizen  Marion  really  represented  the  Mar¬ 
quis’s  two  sons.  As  for  the  bailiff  of  Gondreville,  as  a  > 
devoted  patriot  and  the  son-in-law  of  the  president  of  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal  at  Troyes,  he  was  greatly  in  favour 
with  Malin,  one  of  the  representatives  of  the  department 
of  the  Aube,  and  people  treated  him  with  a  certain  respect  * 
so  long  as  the  Terror  lasted.  But  after  the  decline  of  the 
Mountain  and  the  tanner’s  suicide,  Michu  became  the  scape¬ 
goat  of  his  party.  All  the  blame  of  many  violent  deeds  was 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  9 

thrown  upon  the  dead  man  and  his  son-in-law,  though  in 
truth  the  latter  had  neither  art  nor  part  in  them.  Then 
the  bailiff  of  Gondreville  stood  up  for  himself  and  assumed 
a  hostile  attitude  in  the  face  of  the  crowd  that  did  him  this 
injustice.  He  showed  a  bold  front  in  words.  But  the 
1 8th  Brumaire  came  and  went,  and  Michu  relapsed  into 
a  profound  silence,  the  philosophy  of  the  strong.  He  made 
no  more  protest  against  public  opinion,  he  was  satisfied  to 
act ;  this  prudence  gained  him  a  reputation  for  sly  cunning, 
for  he  possessed  about  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  land. 
Michu’s  money  had  been  made  in  perfectly  legitimate  ways. 
His  salary  and  commission  amounted  to  six  thousand  francs 
per  annum,  and  he  had  inherited  his  wife’s  father’s  prop¬ 
erty.  But  though  he  had  been  bailiff  of  Gondreville  for  a 
dozen  years,  and  anybody  who  chose  to  do  so  could  calcu- 
>  late  the  amount  of  his  savings,  the  old  outcry  against  the 
Jacobin  was  raised  again  when  he  bought  a  farm  worth 
fifty  thousand  francs  towards  the  close  of  the  Consulate. 
At  Arcis  people  said  that  Michu  meant  to  redeem  his  char- 
^  acter  by  making  a  lot  of  money.  And,  unluckily,  just  as 
*  this  affair  was  dying  out  of  people’s  memories,  a  trifling 
incident  set  rancorous  tongues  gossiping  in  the  country¬ 
side,  and  revived  the  general  belief  in  the  ferocity  of  the 
bailiff’s  character. 

Coming  home  one  evening  from  Troyes  in  the  company 
of  several  peasants,  Michu  chanced  to  drop  a  paper  on  the 
high-road.  The  tenant  of  Cinq-Cygne,  who  knew  how  to 
read,  was  walking  behind  the  rest.  He  stooped  and  picked 
-■*  it  up.  Michu  turned,  and  saw  the  farmer  with  the  paper 
in  his  hands.  In  a  moment  he  drew  his  pistol  from  his 
belt,  cocked  the  weapon,  and  threatened  to  blow  the  man’s 
brains  out  if  he  read  a  word  of  the  paper.  It  all  happened 
1  so  suddenly,  Michu’s  behaviour  was  so  violent,  the  tone  of 
his  voice  so  awful,  and  his  eyes  glared  so  fiercely,  that  the 
men  all  felt  a  cold  chill  of  terror.  Naturally  Michu  made 
an  enemy  of  the  tenant  of  Cinq-Cygne. 


io  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  the  Simeuses’  cousin,  had 
but  the  one  farm  for  her  fortune.  She  lived  at  the  chateau 
of  Cinq-Cygne;  and  her  whole  life  was  devoted  to  the 
twin  cousins,  her  playmates  as  a  child  at  Troyes  and 
Gondreville.  Her  only  brother,  Julian  de  Cinq-Cygne, 
left  France  earlier  than  the  Simeuses,  and  had  fallen  before 
Mayence ;  but  the  house  of  Cinq-Cygne  possessed  a  suffi¬ 
ciently  rare  privilege  of  which  more  must  be  said  by-and- 
by,  the  heiress  of  the  house  transmitted  the  title  in  default 
of  heirs  male.  This  affair  between  Michu  and  the  tenant 
caused  a  terrific  hubbub  in  the  country-side  and  darkened 
the  gloomy  mystery  that  hung  about  Michu;  nor  was  this 
the  only  circumstance  which  gained  him  a  formidable  name. 

A  few  months  went  by,  and  Citizen  Marion  came  to 
Gondreville.  He  brought  with  him  Citizen  Malin.  Po¬ 
litical  events  had  turned  out  so  well  for  Malin  and  Arcis 
that  the  First  Consul  had  given  him  a  seat  at  the  Council 
of  State  as  a  reward  for  his  services  on  the  18th  Brumaire. 
Marion  had  sold  the  estate  to  Malin  (so  rumour  ran),  and 
politicians  in  the  little  town  of  Arcis  now  discovered  that 
Marion  had  been  Malin’s  stalking-horse  all  along  and  not 
a  cover  for  the  MM.  Simeuse.  The  all-powerful  Coun¬ 
cillor  of  State  was  the  great  man  of  Arcis.  He  had  sent 
one  of  his  political  allies  to  the  prefecture  at  Troyes;  he 
had  exempted  the  son  of  one  of  the  Gondreville  tenants, 
one  Beauvisage,  from  military  service ;  he  was  everybody’s 
friend.  Consequently,  there  was  no  one  to  say  a  word 
against  the  bargain  in  the  whole  country-side,  where  Malin 
reigned  and  still  reigns  supreme. 

It  was  just  in  the  dawn  of  the  Empire.  People 
who  read  about  the  French  Revolution  to-day  in  history 
books  will  never  have  any  idea  of  the  immense  distances 
travelled  by  public  opinion  between  the  events  that  come 
so  thickly  together.  The  need  of  peace  and  quiet  after  vio¬ 
lent  commotion  was  so  generally  felt  that  the  most  serious 
matters  were  forgotten  in  a  very  short  time.  Events  were 


1 1 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 

i 

ripened  continually  by  new  and  burning  interests  and  soon 
became  ancient  history.  So  nobody  except  Michu  looked 
curiously  into  the  past ;  and  the  bargain  seemed  perfectly 
t  simple  to  other  eyes.  Marion  had  bought  Gondreville 
for  six  hundred  thousand  francs  in  assignats ,  he  sold  it  for  a 
million  in  current  coin ;  but  Malin  paid  nothing  out  of  his 
pocket  except  the  fees  for  the  registration  of  title.  Grevin, 
an  old  comrade  of  Malin’s  in  the  days  when  both  were 
ecclesiastics,  naturally  favoured  this  piece  of  jobbery.  He 
had  his  reward.  The  Councillor  of  State  made  him  a 
notary  at  Arcis. 

[b  When  the  new  owner  came  to  the  lodge,  brought  thither 
by  the  tenant  of  Grouage  (the  farm  that  lay  to  the  left  of 
the  great  avenue,  between  the  park  and  the  forest),  Michu’s 
face  grew  white ;  he  left  the  house.  He  went  off  in 
*  search  of  Marion,  whom  he  found  at  last  alone  in  one  of 
the  broad  walks  in  the  park. 

c  Are  you  selling  Gondreville,  sir  ? 9 

c  Yes,  Michu,  yes.  You  will  have  an  influential  master. 
'  The  Councillor  is  one  of  the  First  Consul’s  friends,  and 
~  very  well  acquainted  with  all  the  Ministry.  He  will  do 
well  by  you.’ 

c  Then  were  you  keeping  the  place  for  him  all  along  ?  ’ 

CI  do  not  say  that,’  replied  Marion.  CI  did  not  know 
how  to  invest  the  money  at  the  time,  and  I  thought  I 
should  be  safe  if  I  put  it  into  the  National  lands ;  but  I 
do  not  care  about  keeping  a  place  that  belonged  to  the 

family,  when  my  father  was - ’ 

c  A  servant  in  their  house,  their  steward  !  ’  Michu  inter¬ 
rupted  fiercely.  c  But  you  are  not  going  to  sell  the  place  > 
I  want  it,  and  I  can  pay  you  for  it,  myself - ’ 

•  *  You  r 

c  Yes,  I.  I  mean  it !  eight  hundred  thousand  francs  and 
in  good  gold - ’ 

c  Eight  hundred  thousand  francs  !  Where  did  you  get 
them  ?  ’  asked  Marion. 


12  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

‘That  is  no  affair  of  yours,’  returned  Michu.  Then  in 
a  milder  tone  and  lowered  voice  he  added,  4  My  wife’s 
father  saved  a  good  many  livres.’ 

4  You  are  too  late,  Michu.  The  thing  is  done  now.’  ♦ 

‘You  can  put  it  off,  sir!’  exclaimed  the  bailiff,  and 
catching  at  his  employer’s  hand  he  held  it  in  a  vice-like 
grip.  4  People  hate  me  ;  I  want  to  be  rich  and  powerful ; 

I  must  have  Gondreville  !  and  I  don’t  care  a  straw  for  my  ' 
life,  mind  you ;  so  sell  the  land  to  me  or  I  will  blow  your 
brains  out !  ’ 

4  But  anyhow  I  must  have  time  to  back  out  of  it  with 
Malin,  and  he  is  not  of  an  accommodating  turn - ’ 

4 1  will  give  you  twenty-four  hours.  If  you  say  a  word 
about  this,  I  shall  think  no  more  of  cutting  off  your  head 
than  of  slithering  a  turnip.’ 

Marion  and  Malin  left  the  chateau  that  night.  Marion 
was  frightened ;  he  told  the  Councillor  about  his  interview 
and  advised  him  to  keep  an  eye  on  his  bailiff.  It  was  too 
late  to  go  back  on  the  bargain  ;  Marion  was  obliged  to 
make  over  the  estate  to  the  man  who  had  actually  paid  for 
it ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  Michu  was  not  the  man  to 
understand  or  admit  such  a  reason.  Moreover,  it  was 
understood  that  this  service  rendered  to  Malin  was  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  a  political  fortune  for  Marion  and  his 
brother.  And  so  it  proved.  In  1806  Advocate  Marion  * 
became  president  of  an  Imperial  court  through  Malin’s 
influence,  and  afterwards,  when  receivers-general  were 
instituted,  Marion’s  brother  was  appointed  to  the  depart¬ 
ment  of  the  Aube.  Malin  recommended  Marion  to  remove 
to  Paris,  and  spoke  to  the  Minister  of  Police,  who  put  a 
special  guard  over  the  threatened  man.  But  Michu  was 
still  bailiff  of  the  Gondreville  estate,  under  the  ferule  of 
the  Arcis  notary ;  Malin  did  not  wish  to  drive  him  to 
extremities,  or  perhaps  he  thought  that  he  could  the  better 
keep  a  watch  on  him. 

From  this  time  forth  Michu  grew  more  and  more 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  13 

thoughtful  and  taciturn ;  and  people  looked  upon  him  as  a 
man  capable  of  ugly  deeds.  A  Councillor  of  State  under 
the  First  Consul  was  as  powerful  as  a  Minister.  Malin 
t  played  a  great  part  in  Paris.  He  was  one  of  the  commis¬ 
sioners  employed  upon  the  Code.  He  bought  one  of  the 
finest  mansions  in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Germain  after  his 
marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a  rich  contractor  named 
Sibuelle,  who  had  fallen  into  disgrace.  After  receivers- 
general  were  instituted,  this  worthy  was  associated  with 
Marion’s  brother  in  the  department  of  the  Aube.  So 
Malin  only  once  came  back  to  Gondreville;  he  left 
Grevin  to  look  after  his  interests  there. 


After  all,  what  had  he,  the  sometime  representative  of 
the  Aube,  to  fear  from  an  ex-president  of  the  Arcis  Jacobin 
club  ?  Yet,  the  townspeople  not  unnaturally  shared  the 
;  peasants’  bad  opinion  of  Michu ;  and  Marion,  Malin,  and 
Grevin,  without  committing  themselves,  took  it  for  granted 
that  he  was  an  extremely  dangerous  character.  Nor  did 
the  action  of  the  authorities,  who  had  orders  from  head- 
.  quarters  to  keep  the  bailiff  under  police  supervision,  tend 
to  destroy  this  opinion.  People  began  to  wonder  how  it 
was  that  Michu  kept  his  place,  and  finally  decided  that  the 
master  was  too  much  afraid  of  his  bailiff  to  turn  him  out. 
After  this  who  can  fail  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
.  deep  melancholy  of  Marthe’s  expression  ? 

Marthe  had  been  piously  brought  up  from  the  first  by 
her  mother.  Both  women  were  good  Catholics.  The 
tanner  s  opinions  and  conduct  had  given  them  pain.  The 
red  colour  came  into  Marthe’s  face  whenever  she  thought 
of  the  day  when  she  was  dressed  as  a  goddess  and  paraded 
about  the  city  of  Troyes.  Her  father  forced  her  to  marry 
Michu ;  she  was  too  much  afraid  of  her  husband  to  judge 
him,  but  his  bad  reputation  grew  worse.  And  yet  she 
felt  that  he  loved  her;  in  the  depths  of  her  woman’s 
heart  there  was  a  very  true  and  real  affection  for  the  ter¬ 
rible  revolutionary.  She  had  never  seen  him  do  anything 


14  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

that  was  not  right ;  he  never  spoke  a  rough  word  to  her,  at 
any  rate ;  nay,  he  tried  to  guess  her  every  wish.  He  was 
almost  always  out  of  the  house,  for  he  thought,  poor  pariah, 
that  his  presence  was  disagreeable  to  her.  Marthe  and 
Michu,  mutually  distrustful,  might  be  said  to  live  in  an 
armed  neutrality,  to  use  the  modern  phrase. 

For  seven  years  people  had  pointed  the  finger  at  her^as 
the  executioner’s  daughter  and  the  wife  of  a  husband 
branded  as  a  traitor.  Marthe  felt  it  keenly.  Beauvisage, 
the  tenant  of  Bellache,  the  farm  in  the  plain  to  the  right 
of  the  avenue,  used  to  come  past  the  lodge,  and  often  she 
had  heard  the  man  say :  — 

‘That  is  Judas’s  house  !  ’ 

Beauvisage  was  attached  to  the  Simeuses. 

The  bailiff*  seemed  to  have  done  his  best  to  complete  the 
extraordinary  resemblance  to  the  thirteenth  apostle,  to 
which,  in  fact,  he  owed  the  horrible  nickname  given  to 
him  all  over  the  country-side.  And  it  was  this  trouble, 
and  certain  vague  but  ever-present  forebodings  that  made 
Marthe  look  grave  and  thoughtful.  Nothing  brings  more  , 
deep  dejection  than  the  sense  of  undeserved  and  hopeless  « 
degradation.  A  painter  surely  might  have  made  a  great 
picture  of  this  little  group  of  pariahs,  in  one  of  the  lovel 
liest  spots  in  that  Champagne  country,  where  the  landscape 
is  usually  so  dreary. 

c  Francois  !  ’  shouted  the  bailiff  to  hasten  the  boy’s  speed. 
Francois  Michu,  a  child  of  ten,  was  free  of  the  park 
and  forest  where  he  levied  his  little  tithe,  ate  the  fruit, 
went  a-hunting,  and  knew  no  trouble  nor  care.  He  was  > 
the  one  happy  creature  in  a  household  cut  off  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  by  the  forest  and  the  park  ;  and  no  less 
cut  off  from  their  kind  by  a  feeling  of  repulsion  in  which 
every  one  shared.  * 

c  Just  pick  up  these  things,’  said  Michu,  pointing  to  the 
parapet,  ‘and  put  this  away.  Look  me  in  the  face  !  You 
ought  to  love  your  father  and  mother,  eh  ?  ’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  15 

For  answer  the  child  jumped  up  to  kiss  his  father,  but 
Michu  turned  to  take  up  the  rifle  and  pushed  him  away. 

‘  Good !  You  have  blabbed  sometimes  about  things  that 
t  are  d°ne  here,  he  continued,  fixing  two  eyes,  formidable 
as  a  wildcat’s,  upon  the  child.  4  Now  mind  this ;  if  you 
tell  tales  of  the  smallest  thing  that  happens  here  to 
Gaucher  or  to  the  folk  at  Bellache  or  Grouage,  or  even 
to  Marianne  that  is  so  fond  of  us,  you  will  be  the  death 
of  your  father.  Don’t  let  this  happen  again,  and  I  will 
forgive  you  for  yesterday’s  prattle.’ 

The  little  one  began  to  cry. 

.  ‘  Don  t  cry  ;  but  if  anybody  asks  you  any  questions,  say 

I  don  t  know,  as  the  peasants  do.  There  are  people 
prowling  about  the  country,  and  I  don’t  like  the  looks  of 
them.  There !  You  understood,  didn’t  you  ?  ’  added 
*  Michu,  turning  to  the  women.  ‘So  keep  still  tongues 
in  your  head.’ 

‘  What  are  you  going  to  do,  dear  ?  ’ 

Michu  was  carefully  measuring  a  charge  of  powder  and 
,  loading  his  rifle.  He  laid  the  weapon  down  on  the 
.  parapet  and  said  to  Marthe,  4  Nobody  knows  that  I  have 
this  rifle  ;  come,  and  stand  here  in  front !  ’ 

Couraut  got  up,  barking  furiously. 

4  That’s  a  good  sharp  dog !  ”  exclaimed  Michu  ;  4  there 
;  are  spies  about,  I  am  certain _ ’ 

The  presence  of  a  spy  can  always  be  felt.  Couraut 
and  Michu  seemed  to  have  but  one  and  the  same  life- 
?ey  lived  like  an  Arab  and  his  horse  in  the  desert. 

,  Michu  knew  the  meaning  of  every  sound  that  Couraut 
made,  as  well  as  the  dog  could  read  the  expression  of  his 
master  s  face  and  knew  his  thoughts  by  instinct. 

‘What  do  you  say  to  that?’  Michu  exclaimed  in  a 
whisper,  as  two  suspicious-looking  persons  appeared  in  a 
side  walk,  and  came  towards  them. 

4  What  is  going  on  hereabouts  ?  They  are  from  Paris,’ 
said  the  old  mother. 


1 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

‘Aha!  That’s  the  way,’  said  Michu.  c  Just  hide  my 
rifle,’  he  added,  in  his  wife’s  ear.  c  They  are  coming 
towards  us.’ 

The  two  men  from  Paris,  now  crossing  the  gravelled 
space,  might  have  served  as  types  for  a  painter.  The 
one,  and  seemingly  the  inferior,  wore  high  boots  with  tops 
turned  down  rather  lower  than  usual  to  afford  a  view  of  a 
pair  of  roguish  calves  covered  with  striped  silk  stockings  of 
dubious  cleanliness.  His  ribbed,  apricot-coloured  breeches 
fastened  with  metal  buttons  were  a  trifle  too  ample,  and 
comfortably  slack  about  his  person,  and  it  was  evident  from 
the  position  of  the  worn  creases  that  he  was  a  man  of 
sedentary  habits.  A  quilted  waistcoat,  loaded  with  em¬ 
broidery  and  fastened  by  one  button  only  across  the  chest, 
contributed  to  a  general  air  of  slovenliness  that  was  further 
increased  by  the  black  corkscrew  curls  which  hid  his 
forehead  and  hung  about  his  cheeks.  A  blue  and  white 
cameo  pin  adorned  his  shirt  front,  and  a  double  line  of 
steel  watch-chain  hung  below  his  waist.  His  cinnamon- 
brown  coat  would  have  caught  the  eye  of  a  caricaturist 
at  once,  for  the  long  tail  behind  exactly  resembled  the 
codfish  from  which  the  garment  took  its  name.  The 
codfish-tail  coat  was  in  fashion  for  ten  years.  Napo¬ 
leon’s  empire  lasted  not  much  longer. 

A  limp  and  very  voluminous  cravat  enabled  this  indi¬ 
vidual  to  muffle  himself  to  the  nose  in  its  voluminous 
folds.  A  pimpled  countenance,  a  long,  swollen,  brick- 
red  nose,  high-coloured  cheek  bones,  a  toothless  but  ap¬ 
palling,  sensual  mouth,  a  low  forehead,  and  ears  adorned 
with  thick  gold  rings,  were  seemingly  grotesque  features 
made  terrible  by  two  little  slits  of  eyes,  set  like  a  pig’s 
eyes  in  the  man’s  head ;  there  was  obdurate  greed  in  them, 
and  a  jovial,  and,  so  to  speak,  hilarious  cruelty.  Those 
keen-sighted,  burrowing  eyes  of  freezing  and  frozen  blue, 
might  have  been  taken  as  a  model  for  that  formidable  Eye 
which  the  police  took  for  their  emblem  during  the  Revo- 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  17 

lution.  This  worthy  wore  black  silk  gloves  and  carried 
a  little  switch.  He  was  unmistakably  an  official  person- 
age  >  there  was  that  in  his  bearing  and  in  his  manner  of 
*  taking  snuff  and  thrusting  it  into  his  nostrils,  which  told 
of  the  self-importance  of  an  understrapper  of  the  Gov¬ 
ernment  the  man  who  magnifies  his  office  when  clothed 
with  a  little  brief  authority  from  high  quarters. 

Hls  companion’s  costume  was  in  the  same  taste,  but  it  was 
elegant  and  elegantly  worn,  and  care  was  expended  upon  all 
its  details.  He  wore  tight-fitting  breeches  and  boots  a  la 
Suwarrow  which  creaked  as  he  walked.  His  shirt  collar 
,  reached  the  tips  of  his  ears,  valuable  trinkets  adorned  his 
person,  and  he  wore  a  spencer  over  his  coat,  an  aristocratic 
fashion  adopted  by  the  Clichyens  and  gilded  youth  of  the 
Revolution  and  destined  to  survive  both  gilded  youth  and 
1  Clichyens.  Fashions  in  dress  outlived  political  parties  in 
those  days,  a  sure  sign  of  unsettlement  which  reappeared 
even  in  1830.  This  perfect  muscadin  seemed  to  be  about 
thirty  years  of  age ;  he  had  the  air  of  a  well-bred  man  and 
'  a  consciousness  of  some  kind  of  superiority  seemed  to  lurk 
beneath  coxcombry  that  almost  reached  the  pitch  of  inso¬ 
lence.  His  pallid  countenance  looked  as  though  there  was 
not  a  single  drop  of  blood  in  it ;  there  was  a  sardonic  turn 
about  the  sharp,  short  nose ;  it  put  you  in  mind  of  a  skull, 
and  the  green  eyes  were  inscrutable ;  they  told  no  more 
than  the  thin,  pinched  lips  chose  to  tell. 

The  man  in  the  cinnamon-brown  coat  seemed  almost 
genial,  compared  with  this  thin,  wizened  young  man,  who 
twirled  a  rattan  cane  with  a  gold  knob  that  glittered  in  the 
sunshine;  the  first  might  be  willing  to  take  the  execu¬ 
tioner  s  place;  but  the  second  would  not  hesitate  to  ensnare 
innocence  and  beauty  and  virtue  in  the  toils  of  slander  and 
intrigue,  and  drowned  or  poisoned  his  victims  with  perfect 
equanimity.  The  red-faced  man  would  have  tried  to  cheer 
up  the  victim  with  rough  jokes ;  the  other  would  not  so 
much  as  smile.  The  first,  a  man  of  forty-five,  had  evi- 

B 


1 8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

dently  a  weakness  for  women  and  good  cheer.  Such  men 
have  always  some  appetite  which  makes  them  the  slaves  of 
their  calling.  But  his  companion  had  neither  vices  nor 
passions.  He  was  a  born  spy  ;  he  was  in  the  diplomatic  k 
service  ;  his  was  a  love  of  art  for  art’s  sake.  He  found 
the  ideas,  his  fellow  carried  them  out ;  he  represented  the 
thought,  the  other  was  its  outward  and  visible  manifestation. 

c  This  must  surely  be  Gondreville,  my  good  woman,’  the  , 
younger  man  began. 

c  People  hereabouts  don’t  say  “  my  good  woman,”  ’ 
answered  Michu.  ‘We  plain  folk  still  call  each  other 
plain  u  citizen  ”  and  “  citizeness  ”  out  here.’ 

c  Oh  !  ’  returned  the  young  man,  in  the  most  natural 
way  in  the  world.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  put  out. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  a  card  player,  in  the  middle 
of  a  run  of  luck,  feels  that  his  luck  is  broken  at  the  sight 
of  a  new  face  opposite ;  the  man’s  voice,  manner,  and 
expression,  like  his  way  of  shuffling  the  cards,  are  so  many 
warnings  of  defeat.  All  gamblers,  and  ecarte  players  espe¬ 
cially,  know  this  sensation.  Michu  felt  something  of  the  f 
kind,  a  prophetic  collapse.  Dim  forebodings  of  death,  a 
confused  vision  of  the  scaffold,  flashed  across  his  mind;  a 
voice  cried  that  this  muscadin  would  be  his  death,  though 
as  yet  the  two  men  were  total  strangers.  So  he  had  spoken 
rudely  ;  he  was  and  meant  to  be  uncivil. 

cYou  are  State  Councillor  Malin’s  man,  aren’t  you?’ 
asked  the  second  man  from  Paris. 

c  I  am  my  own  master,’  returned  Michu. 

The  younger  man  turned  to  the  women,  and  said,  in 
the  most  polite  manner,  c  Are  we  at  Gondreville,  ladies  ? 
That  is  all  we  want  to  know ;  M.  Malin  is  expecting  us.’ 

c  There  is  the  park,’  said  Michu,  pointing  to  the  open 
iron  gate. 

c  And  why  are  you  hiding  that  rifle,  my  pretty  child  ?  ’ 
said  the  jovial  personage  (he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
barrel  as  he  came  through  the  gate). 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  19 

‘  Always  at  it,  even  in  the  country,’  smiled  the  younger 
man.  A  thought  struck  them  both ;  they  turned  back, 
and  Michu  read  their  suspicions  in  spite  of  their  impassive 
t  faces.  Marthe  allowed  them  to  look  at  the  rifle,  Couraut 
barking  all  the  time ;  she  felt  convinced  that  her  husband 
was  meditating  some  dark  deed,  and  was  almost  pleased  by 
the  strangers’  perspicacity.  Michu  flung  her  a  glance  that 
t  made  her  tremble ;  then  he  took  up  the  rifle  and  set  about 
loading  it  with  a  bullet,  accepting  all  the  consequences  of 
the  encounter  and  risk  of  possible  detection.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  did  not  value  his  life  in  the  least,  and  his  wife  clearly 
i  understood  his  fatal  resolution. 

‘  So  you  have  wolves  in  these  parts,  have  you  ?  ’  asked 
the  younger  man. 

‘  There  are  always  wolves  wherever  there  are  sheep. 

•  You  are  in  Champagne,  and  yonder  there  is  a  forest.  But 
we  have  wild  boars  as  well,  and  we  have  big  and  small 
game,  we  have  some  of  all  sorts,’  said  Michu,  in  a  sarcastic 
tone. 

The  two  men  exchanged  glances,  and  the  older  said,  ‘  I’ll 
wager,  Corentin,  that  this  is  that  Michu  fellow - ’ 

‘We  did  not  herd  pigs  together  that  I  know  of,’  said  the 
bailiff. 

‘  No,  but  we  have  presided  over  Jacobins,  citizen,’  re¬ 
turned  the  cynical  elder,  —  ‘you  at  Arcis,  and  I  elsewhere. 
You  keep  up  the  courtesy  of  the  carmagnole,  but  it  is  out 
of  fashion  now,  my  boy.’ 

‘  The  park  is  large,  I  think  we  might  lose  ourselves  in 
it ;  since  you  are  the  bailiff,  you  can  show  us  the  way  to 
the  chateau,’  the  man  addressed  as  Corentin  remarked  in  a 
peremptory  tone. 

Michu  whistled  for  his  boy  and  continued  to  ram  home 
the  charge.  Corentin  looked  Marthe  over  with  indifferent 
eyes,  whereas  his  companion  seemed  to  be  charmed  with 
her ;  but  Corentin  saw  traces  of  anguish  that  escaped  the 
notice  of  the  old  libertine  who  took  alarm  at  the  rifle.  And 


20  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

in  this  little,  yet  important  trifle,  the  two  men’s  whole 
characters  were  revealed. 

4 1  have  an  appointment  on  the  other  side  of  the  forest,’ 
said  Michu;  4 1  cannot  go  with  you  myself,  but  my  boy  here 
will  show  you  the  way  to  the  chateau.  What  way  can 
you  have  come  to  Gondreville?  Did  you  go  round  by^ 
Cinq-Cygne  ?  ’ 

4  Like  you,  we  had  something  on  hand  in  the  forest,  said 
Corentin,  without  a  trace  of  irony  in  his  manner. 

4  Francois  !  ’  called  Michu,  4  show  these  gentlemen  the 
way  to  the  chateau*,  take  them  along  the  bye-paths,  so  that 
they  will  meet  no  one  on  the  way ;  they  are  to  keep  clear 
of  beaten  tracks.  —  Come  here  a  minute  !  ’  he  added,  seeing 
that  the  two  men  had  turned  their  backs  and  walked  away, 
talking  together  in  a  low  voice. 

Michu  caught  up  the  child  and  kissed  him  almost  sol¬ 
emnly,  with  a  look  in  his  face  that  confirmed  his  wife’s 
fears.  A  cold  shiver  ran  down  her  back  ;  she  looked  at 
her  mother,  but  her  eyes  were  dry ;  she  was  past  crying. 

4  Off  with  you,’  said  Michu,  addressing  the  boy.  And 
he  watched  him  out  of  sight. 

Couraut  began  to  bark  again,  this  time  in  the  direction 

of  Grouage. 

4  Oh!  there’s  Violette.  That  is  the  third  time  that  he 
has  been  past  here  since  the  morning.  What  can  be  going 
on  ?  That  will  do,  Couraut !  ’ 

A  few  minutes  later  they  heard  a  horse  come  trotting  on 
the  road,  and  Violette,  mounted  on  one  of  the  ponies  much 
in  use  among  farmers  round  about  Paris,  showed  his  face. 
It  was  a  deeply  wrinkled  countenance,  the  colour  of  wood, 
looking  all  the  darker  under  the  shadow  of  a  round,  broad- 
brimmed  hat.  His  grey,  malevolent,  bright  eyes  dis¬ 
sembled  the  treachery  of  his  character.  A  pair  of  thin 
legs,  covered  to  the  knees  with  linen  gaiters,  hung  unsup¬ 
ported  by  the  stirrups,  so  that  they  were  kept  in  position, 
to  all  appearance,  by  the  weight  of  his  thick,  hobnailed 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


21 


boots.  His  grey  hair  fell  in  curls  at  the  back  of  his  head 
over  a  limousine ,  a  rough  black  and  white  striped  carter’s 
cloak,  which  he  wore  over  his  short  jacket.  The  man’s 
clothes,  his  short-legged  grey  pony,  his  way  of  riding,  with 
his  chest  thrown  out  and  shoulders  thrown  back,  the  jagged 
and  worn  bridle  held  in  a  coarse,  chapped,  earth-coloured 
hand,  —  everything  about  Violette  gave  the  impression  that 
this  was  a  grasping,  ambitious  peasant,  who  means  to 
own  land  and  will  have  it  at  all  costs.  The  line  of  his 
mouth,  with  its  bluish  lip,  might  have  been  cut  by  a  sur¬ 
geon’s  bistoury ;  his  face  and  forehead  were  so  furrowed 
by  innumerable  wrinkles,  that  all  flexibility  was  lost,  and 
such  expression  as  it  possessed  lay  wholly  in  the  contours. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  menace  in  the  hard,  sharply  cut  lines, 
in  spite  of  the  air  of  humility  which  almost  all  country 
people  can  assume  to  hide  their  feelings  and  their  schemes, 
a  humility  which  answers  the  same  purpose  as  the  imper¬ 
turbable  gravity  of  the  Oriental  and  the  savage. 

Violette  had  been  a  day  labourer.  He  had  come  to  be 
the  servant  of  Grouage  by  a  system  of  ever-increasing 
malevolence,  and  he  still  kept  up  that  system  though  he 
had  reached  a  position  far  above  his  first  aspirations.  He 
wishedjll  to  hisjieighbour  and  he  wished  it  ^fervently ;  if 
he  had  the  chance  he  would  help  him  to  ill-luckT  and  it 

was  a  labour  of  love.  Violette  was  frankly  envious,  hut 

with  all  his  malevolence,  he  kept  ^within  the  limits  of  the 
law,  precisely  as  the_Ojvposition  does,  and  neitliejLmore  nor 
less.  It  was  his  belief  that  his  own  success  depended 
upon  the  failure  of  others ;  every  one  above  him  was  an 
enemy  against  whom  any  weapons  were  fair.  This  is  a 
very  common  type  of  character  among  the  peasants.  His 
great  affair  of  the  moment  was  to  obtain  from  Malin  an 
extension  of  his  lease,  which  had  but  six  years  to  run. 
He  was  jealous  of  Michu’s  success,  so  he  kept  a  close 
watch  over  him.  The  peasants  used  to  tease  Violette 
about  his  intimacy  with  the  Michus ;  but  with  a  hope  of 


22  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

another  twelve  years’  lease  before  his  eyes,  the  cunning 
farmer  was  on  the  watch  to  do  a  service  to  the  Govern¬ 
ment  or  to  Malin,  and  he  knew  that  Malin  distrusted 
Michu.  With  the  help  of  the  gamekeeper  at  Gondreville, 
the  rural  policeman,  and  the  peasant  folk  that  gathered 
firewood,  Violette  kept  the  commissary  at  Arcis  informed 
of  every  little  thing  that  Michu  did.  That  functionary  had 
failed  to  enlist  Marianne,  the  servant-girl,  in  the  interests 
of  the  Government ;  but  Violette  and  his  confederates  knew 
all  that  went  on  through  Gaucher,  the  lad,  bribing  him 
with  trifles,  such  as  waistcoats,  buckles,  cotton  stockings, 
and  nice  things  to  eat.  Michu  trusted  Gaucher,  and  the 
boy,  for  that  matter,  had  no  suspicion  that  his  gossip 
could  do  any  harm.  Michu  did  not  know  that  Violette 
blackened  and  distorted  everything  that  he  did,  and  made 
a  crime  of  every  action  with  the  wildest  suppositions ;  but  , 
he  knew  the  man’s  vile  motive  for  coming  so  often  to  the 
house,  and  amused  himself  by  mystifying  him. 

4  What,  here  again  !  You  must  have  a  good  deal  to  do 
over  at  Bellache,’  said  Michu.  , 

c  Again  !  is  a  word  of  reproach,  M.  Michu.  You  don’t 
reckon  to  play  the  sparrows  a  tune  on  such  a  clarionet,  do 

you  ?  I  did  not  know  you  had  that  rifle - ’ 

c  It  came  up  in  one  of  my  fields  where  rifles  grow,’ 
returned  Michu.  4  Stay,  this  is  how  I  sow  them.’  He  * 
pointed  the  gun  at  a  viper  thirty  paces  away  and  cut  the 
reptile  in  two. 

4  Did  you  get  that  highwayman’s  weapon  to  protect  your 
master  ?  Perhaps  he  made  you  a  present  of  it.’  4 

4  Came  down  from  Paris  on  purpose,’  said  Michu. 

4  It  is  a  fact  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  his 
journey,  all  over  the  country-side.  Some  say  that  he  is  in 
disgrace,  and  some  that  he  wants  to  see  his  way  clear  * 
here.  —  And,  come  to  think  of  it,  why  should  he  drop 
down  on  us  without  a  word  of  warning;,  just  like  the  First 
Consul  ?  ’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  23 

4  I  am  not  such  a  friend  of  his  as  to  be  in  his  confidence.’ 

4  Then  you  have  not  seen  him  yet  ?  ’ 

4  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  here  till  I  came  back  from 
my  round  in  the  forest,’  said  Michu,  reloading  his  rifle. 

4  He  has  sent  to  Arcis  for  M.  Grevin ;  they  will  be 
tribuning  something  or  other.’ 

(Malin  had  been  a  tribune  once.) 

4  If  you  are  going  in  the  direction  of  Cinq-Cygne,  you 
can  take  me  with  you ;  I  am  going  that  way,’  said  Michu, 
turning  to  Violette. 

But  Violette  was  too  timorous  to  take  such  a  man  as 
Michu  up  behind  him ;  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse ;  and  the 
Judas  of  Gondreville,  gun  on  shoulder,  made  a  dash  for  the 
avenue. 

4  Who  can  Michu  have  in  his  mind  ?  ’  said  Marthe  when 
he  had  gone. 

4  He  has  looked  very  dark  ever  since  he  knew  that  M.  Malin 
was  here,’  said  her  mother.  4  But  it  is  damp;  let  us  go  in.’ 

The  two  women  were  sitting  in  the  chimney-corner 
when  Couraut  began  to  bark. 

4  There  is  Michu  !  ’  cried  Marthe. 

And  indeed  it  was  Michu  who  came  upstairs.  His  wife 
in  anxiety  went  to  him  in  their  room. 

4  See  if  there  is  any  one  in  the  house,’  he  said  in  an  un¬ 
steady  voice. 

4  No  one,’  she  said ;  4  Marianne  is  out  in  the  field  with  the 
cow,  and  Gaucher - ’ 

4  Where  is  Gaucher  ?  ’ 

4 1  do  not  know.’ 

4 1  have  my  doubts  of  that  young  rogue.  Go  up  to  the 
garret  and  make  a  thorough  search ;  look  for  him  in  every 
nook  and  corner  in  the  place.’ 

Marthe  went.  When  she  came  back  again,  her  husband 
was  on  his  knees  at  his  prayers. 

4  What  is  the  matter  ?  ”  she  asked,  in  dismay.  Michu 


24  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

put  his  arm  about  her  waist,  drew  her  towards  him,  kissed 
her  on  her  forehead,  and  said  unsteadily, c  If  we  are  never  to 
see  each  other  again,  you  ought  to  know  how  much  I  have 
loved  you,  my  poor  wife.  There  is  a  letter  for  you  in 
a  round  tin  box  buried  at  the  foot  of  the  larch  yonder  in 
that  clump  of  trees,’  he  continued  after  a  pause,  indicating 
the  tree  as  he  spoke.  c  Follow  the  instructions  in  the  let¬ 
ter  from  point  to  point.  Do  not  touch  it  till  after  my 
death.  After  all,  whatever  may  happen  to  me,  think,  in 
spite  of  men’s  injustice,  that  this  arm  of  mine  dealt  justice 
for  God.’ 

Marthe’s  face  had  grown  paler  and  paler  till  she  was 
white  as  her  linen.  Her  eyes  were  wide  with  terror;  she 
gazed  fixedly  at  her  husband,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  her 
throat  was  parched.  Michu  slipped  from  her  like  a 
shadow.  He  had  tied  Couraut  fast  to  the  bed-foot,  and 
the  animal  began  to  howl  in  despair. 

Michu  had  serious  cause  to  be  angry  with  M.  Marion ; 
but  all  his  anger  was  transferred  to  a  man  far  more  criminal 
in  his  opinion,  and  that  man  was  Malin.  Malin’s  secrets 
were  open  to  the  bailiff’s  eyes.  No  one  was  so  well  quali¬ 
fied  to  appreciate  the  State  Councillor’s  conduct.  In  mat¬ 
ters  political,  Michu’s  father-in-law  had  been  in  Malin’s 
confidence  at  the  time  when  Malin  was  nominated,  through 
Grevin’s  diligence,  to  represent  the  Aube  in  the  Conven¬ 
tion. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  worth  while  to  explain  how  the 
Simeuses  and  the  Cinq-Cygnes  came  to  confront  Malin, 
and  to  show  that  the  circumstances  that  weighed  so  heavily 
on  the  destiny  of  the  twins  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
Cygne,  weighed  yet  more  heavily  on  Marthe  and  Michu. 

The  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne  at  Troyes  stood  opposite  the 
Hotel  Simeuse.  When  a  populace  let  loose  by  hands  no  | 
less  cunning  than  prudent  had  sacked  the  Hotel  Simeuse; 
when  the  Marquis  and  Marquise  had  been  discovered  and 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  25 

delivered  over  to  the  National  Guard,  who  took  them  to 
prison  on  a  charge  of  corresponding  with  the  enemies  of 
the  Nation ;  then  the  mob,  arguing  logically,  raised  the 
t  shout,  4  To  the  Cinq-Cygnes  !  ’  It  was  inconceivable  to 
them  that  the  Cinq-Cygnes  should  be  innocent  of  the 
crimes  of  the  Simeuses. 

The  brave  old  Marquis  de  Simeuse  had  two  sons,  two 
lads  of  eighteen ;  he  was  afraid  that  their  courage  might 
get  them  into  trouble ;  and  to  save  them  he  sent  them,  a  few 
minutes  before  the  storm  broke,  to  their  aunt,  the  Com- 
tesse  de  Cinq-Cygne.  Two  attached  servants  locked  the 
young  men  into  the  house.  The  old  Marquis  bade  them 
keep  everything  from  his  sons’  knowledge  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst.  Laurence  de  Cinq-Cygne,  then  a  girl 
of  twelve,  loved  both  her  cousins  equally,  nor  of  the  two 
brothers  could  it  be  said  which  loved  her  best.  The  like¬ 
ness  between  the  two  Simeuses,  as  often  happens  with 
twins,  was  so  strong  that  for  a  long  while  their  mother 
dressed  them  in  different  colours  so  as  to  know  them  apart. 
The  first  born  was  named  Paul  Marie ;  the  younger, 
Marie  Paul. 

Laurence  de  Cinq-Cygne  was  in  the  secret  of  the  situa¬ 
tion  ;  the  girl  played  a  woman’s  part  excellently  well. 
She  coaxed  and  implored,  and  kept  her  cousins  in  the 
house  till  the  mob  surrounded  the  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne. 
The  brothers  learned  the  danger  at  the  same  moment,  and 
exchanged  their  thoughts  in  a  single  glance.  They  decided 
on  their  course  at  once.  Their  two  servants  and  the 
Comtesse’s  men  were  armed,  the  doors  barricaded,  the 
shutters  closed,  and  the  two  young  men  appeared  at  a 
window  with  five  servants  behind  them  and  the  Abbe 
d’Hauteserre,  a  relative  of  the  Cinq-Cygnes.  The  eight 
brave  men  opened  a  murderous  fire  on  the  mob.  Every 
shot  killed  or  wounded  an  assailant.  Laurence,  instead  of 
giving  way  to  despair,  loaded  and  reloaded  for  them  with 
extraordinary  coolness,  and  served  out  bullets  and  powder. 


26  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

The  Comtesse  de  Cinq-Cygne  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
and  began  to  pray. 

c  What  are  you  doing,  mother  ? ’  asked  Laurence. 
c  I  am  praying  for  them  and  for  you.’ 

Sublime  words  spoken  once  before  under  similar  cir¬ 
cumstances,  by  the  mother  of  the  Prince  de  la  Paix  in 
Spain.  Eleven  men  were  killed  and  lay  among  the  wounded 
in  the  street.  A  reception  of  this  kind  may  have  a  cooling  or 
an  exciting  effect  on  a  mob  ;  they  either  warm  to  their  work 
or  they  give  up.  The  men  in  front  fell  back  in  panic,  but 
the  crowd  behind  had  come  to  plunder  and  slay,  and  at  the 
sight  of  their  dead,  they  raised  a  howl  of  c  Murder  !  ’ 

Prudent  folk  went  off  in  search  of  the  Representative  of 
the  People.  Meanwhile,  the  brothers  had  heard  the  his¬ 
tory  of  the  day’s  fatal  events ;  they  suspected  the  Represent¬ 
ative  of  a  wish  to  ruin  their  house  ;  suspicion  soon  became 
a  certainty,  and  hot  for  vengeance  they  took  up  their  places 
under  the  arched  gateway,  loaded  their  guns  ready  to  shoot 
down  Malin  as  soon  as  he  showed  himself.  The  Countess 
lost  her  head  completely ;  she  saw  her  house  in  ashes,  her  t 
daughter  murdered  before  her  eyes,  and  reproached  her 
nephews  for  a  gallant  defence  that  set  all  France  talking 
for  a  week.  Laurence  opened  the  door  a  few  inches  in 
reply  to  Malin’s  summons.  At  sight  of  her  he  came  in, 
relying  on  his  own  formidable  reputation  and  the  child’s  * 
helplessness.  But  when  he  demanded  the  reason  for  this 
armed  resistance,  she  cut  him  short  at  the  first  word. 

c  What,  sir,  do  you  give  liberty  to  France,  and  cannot 
protect  people  in  their  own  houses  ?  They  want  to  mur-  * 
der  us  and  pull  down  our  hotel ;  have  we  no  right  to  keep 
them  out  by  force  ?  ’ 

Malin  stood  nailed  to  the  spot. 

cYou!  the  grandson  of  a  bricklayer  employed  by  the  • 
Great  Marquis  to  build  his  chateau,  allow  our  father  to  be 
dragged  away  to  prison,  on  the  strength  of  a  slanderous 
lie  !  ’  cried  Marie  Paul. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  27 

Malin  saw  each  young  man  clutch  convulsively  at  his 
rifle,  and  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  4  He  shall  be  set  at 
liberty/  he  said. 

4  That  promise  of  yours  has  saved  your  life,5  Marie  Paul 
said  solemnly.  4  But  if  it  is  not  fulfilled  by  to-night,  we 
shall  know  where  to  find  you  again.5 

4  As  for  that  howling  mob  outside,5  added  Laurence, 
4  unless  you  send  them  away,  the  first  shot  from  the  win¬ 
dow  shall  be  for  you.  Now,  M.  Malin,  go  out ! 5 

Malin  went  out  and  harangued  the  crowd.  He  talked 
about  the  sacredness  of  the  hearth,  the  right  of  habeas  corpus , 
and  the  fact  that  an  Englishman’s  house  is  his  castle.  He 
said  that  the  Law  and  the  People  were  supreme ;  that  the 
Law  meant  the  People ;  that  the  People  should  only  act 
through  the  Law,  and  that  might  should  always  be  on  the 
side  of  right.  Dire  necessity  gave  him  eloquence.  The 
mob  dispersed.  But  he  never  forgot  that  scorn  in  the 
faces  of  the  Simeuses,  nor  the  tone  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Cinq-Cygne’s  4  Go  out ! 5 

So,  when  the  Cinq-Cygne  lands  were  sold  by  the  Nation 
(Laurence’s  brother,  the  Comte  de  Cinq-Cygne,  being  an 
emigre ),  the  partition  was  made  strictly.  The  agents  of 
the  District,  acting  on  Malin’s  instructions,  left  Laurence 
nothing  but  the  chateau,  the  park  and  gardens,  and  the  farm 
of  Cinq-Cygne,  for  Laurence  had  no  right  to  more  than  her 
legitime ,  the  minimum  share  of  the  inheritance  secured  by 
law  to  each  child.  The  Nation  stood  in  the  place  of  the 
Comte  de  Gondreville,  especially  since  he  had  taken  arms 
against  the  Republic. 

The  night  after  this  stormy  outbreak,  Laurence  prayed 
her  cousins  to  leave  France.  She  begged  so  earnestly, 
fearing  that  Malin’s  treachery  might  ensnare  them,  that 
they  took  horse  and  reached  the  outposts  of  the  Prussian 
army.  They  had  scarcely  reached  the  forest  of  Gondre¬ 
ville  before  the  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne  was  surrounded.  Malin, 
Representative  of  the  People,  came  himself  and  in  force  to 


28  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

arrest  the  heirs  of  the  House  of  Simeuse.  He  did  not 
venture  to  lay  hands  on  the  Comtesse  de  Cinq-Cygne, 
who  was  ill  in  bed  with  a  terrible  attack  of  nervous  fever, 
nor  yet  on  Laurence,  a  child  of  twelve.  The  servants,  in  t 
terror  of  the  Republic  and  its  severity,  had  all  disap¬ 
peared. 

Next  morning  the  news  of  the  stand  made  by  the  two 
brothers,  and  of  their  flight  to  Prussia,  had  spread  all  about 
thd  neighbourhood.  Three  thousand  persons  gathered  in 
front  of  the  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne,  and  the  house  was  pulled 
down  with  inexplicable  rapidity.  Madame  de  Cinq-Cygne 
was  removed  to  the  Hotel  Simeuse,  where  she  died  in  a  , 
second  attack  of  fever. 

Michu  only  appeared  on  the  political  scene  after  all  these 
things  had  taken  place,  for  the  Marquis  and  Marquise 
remained  in  prison  for  five  months.  The  representative  , 
of  the  Aube,  meanwhile,  was  away  on  a  mission.  But 
now  that  Marion  had  sold  Gondreville  to  Malin,  and  the 
popular  ebullition  was  forgotten  in  the  country,  Michu 
understood  Malin  thoroughly,  or  at  any  rate  thought  that 
he  understood  him  ;  for  Malin,  like  Fouche,  was  one  of 
those  many-sided  men  with  unfathomed  depths  under  every 
side  of  their  characters,  who  are  inscrutable  at  the  time,  and 
can  only  be  understood  long  after  the  game  is  over. 

Before  taking  any  important  step  in  life,  Malin  never 
failed  to  take  counsel  with  his  faithful  friend  Grevin,  the 
notary  at  Arcis.  Grevin’s  judgment  on  men  and  things  at 
a  distance  was  sound,  clear-sighted,  and  accurate.  Such  a 
habit  is  the  wisdom  of  a  second-rate  man  and  the  source  *• 
of  his  strength.  Now,  in  November  1803,  the  State 
Councillor’s  position  was  so  critical  that  a  letter  might 
have  compromised  the  friends.  Malin’s  nomination  as  a 
senator  was  certain ;  he  was  afraid  to  have  an  explanation  ' 
in  Paris ;  so  he  left  his  town  house  and  came  out  to 
Gondreville,  choosing  from  among  several  reasons  for  his 
departure,  that  one  which  should  give  him  an  air  of  zeal  in 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  29 

* 

Bonaparte’s  eyes,  though  he  thought  not  of  the  State,  but 
wholly  of  himself. 

So  while  Michu  lay  in  wait,  and  followed  him  in  the 
park,  watching  like  a  savage,  for  the  ripe  moment  for  his 
revenge,  the  politic  Malin,  with  his  habit  of  squeezing  his 
own  advantage  out  of  every  event,  had  brought  his  friend 
to  walk  in  a  little  space  of  grass  in  the  English  garden. 
It  was  a  lonely  spot,  well  adapted  to  secret  conferences. 
The  pair  therefore  were  standing  together  in  the  middle  of 
the  grass  plot,  talking  in  such  low  tones  that  no  one  at  a 
distance  could  overhear  them,  while  they  could  change  the 
conversation  so  soon  as  any  listener  approached. 

c  Why  not  have  stayed  in  a  room  at  the  chateau  ?  ’  asked 
Grevin. 

cDid  you  not  see  those  two  men  that  the  Prefect  of 
Police  has  sent  me  ?  ’ 

(Though  Fouche  had  been  the  soul  of  the  consular  cab¬ 
inet  in  the  affair  of  the  plot  in  which  Pichegru,  Georges, 
Moreau,  and  Polignac  were  involved,  he  was  not  at  that 
time  the  Minister  of  Police,  but  an  ordinary  State  Coun¬ 
cillor  like  Malin  himself.) 

c  Those  two  men  are  Fouche’s  two  arms,’  he  continued. 
c  One  of  them  put  an  end  to  the  rising  in  the  West  in  a 
fortnight  in  the  year  VII.  That  was  that  young  muscadin 
with  vinegar  on  his  lips,  and  verjuice  in  his  eyes,  and  a 
face  like  a  decanter  of  lemonade.  The  other  is  one  of 
Lenoir’s  brood,  the  only  man  to  whom  the  great  traditions 
of  the  old  police  were  handed  down.  I  simply  asked  for 
an  ordinary  detective,  backed  up  by  an  accredited  agent ; 
and  they  send  me  yonder  pair  of  sharpers.  Ah  !  Grevin, 
Fouche  has  a  mind  to  know  my  game,  beyond  a  doubt. 
That  is  why  I  left  those  gentlemen  to  finish  their  dinner 
at  the  chateau.  Let  them  look  where  they  like,  they  will 
not  find  Louis  XVIII  there,  nor  the  slightest  clue.’ 

c  Well  and  good;  but  what  may  this  game  be  that  you 
are  playing  ?  ’ 


jo  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  Eh  !  a  double  game,  my  friend,  is  dangerous ;  but  so 
far  as  Fouche  is  concerned,  this  is  a  triple  game.  I  am 
in  the  confidence  of  the  Bourbons,  and  it  is  possible  that 
he  has  got  wind  of  it.’ 

c  You  in  the  confidence  of  the  Bourbons  ?  ’ 

‘  Yes.’ 

c  Then  you  do  not  remember  Favras  ?  ’ 

The  remark  seemed  to  make  an  impression  on  the 
Councillor. 

<•  Since  when  ?  ’  continued  Grevin  after  a  pause. 

c  Since  the  Consul  was  appointed  for  life.’ 

c  But  there  are  no  proofs  ?  ’ 

‘  Not  that !  ’  said  Malin,  clicking  his  thumb  nail  against 
his  front  teeth. 

In  a  few  words  Malin  gave  his  friend  a  concise  sketch 
of  the  critical  position  into  which  Bonaparte  was  forcing 
England.  The  national  existence  of  England  was  threat¬ 
ened  by  the  camp  at  Boulogne.  Malin  explained  the  ex¬ 
tent  of  a  plan  of  invasion,  of  which  France  and  Europe 
knew  nothing,  albeit  Pitt  had  his  suspicions  of  it.  Then 
he  sketched  the  critical  position  into  which  England  in 
turn  was  forcing  Bonaparte.  A  formidable  coalition, — 
Prussia,  Austria,  and  Russia,  —  subsidised  by  English  gold, 
was  to  bring  seven  hundred  thousand  men  into  the  field. 
And  at  the  same  time,  France  was  encompassed  by  an 
appalling  network  of  conspiracy  which  united  the  Moun¬ 
tain,  the  Chouans,  the  Royalist  party,  and  the  Princes. 

‘  So  long  as  Louis  XVIII  had  three  consuls  to  deal  with, 
he  believed  that  anarchy  would  continue,  and,  favoured 
by  some  movement  or  other,  he  hoped  to  play  a  return 
giatch  for  the  13th  Vendemiaire  and  the  18th  Fructidor,’ 
laid  Malin.  c  But  this  consulship  for  life  has  unmasked 
Bonaparte’s  designs.  He  will  be  Emperor  before  long. 
The  sub-lieutenant  of  old  days  is  thinking  of  founding 
a  dynasty  !  So  this  time  it  is  an  attempt  on  his  life ;  and 
they  are  setting  about  it  even  more  cleverly  than  they  did 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  31 

in  that  Rue  Saint  Nicaise  business.  Pichegru,  Georges, 
Moreau,  and  the  Due  d’Enghien  are  in  it,  so  are  two  of 
the  Comte  d’ Artois’  friends  —  Polignac  and  Riviere.’ 

‘  What  a  combination  !  ’  exclaimed  Grevin. 

‘  France  is  honeycombed  with  conspiracy  under  the  sur¬ 
face.  They  want  the  assault  to  be  general ;  no  stone  will 
be  left  unturned.  A  hundred  energetic  men  with  Georges 
at  their  head  are  to  set  upon  the  Consular  Guard  and  the 
Consul,  man  to  man.’ 

‘  Very  well ;  denounce  them.’ 

‘The  Consul,  the  Minister  of  Police,  the  Prefect,  and 
Fouche  have  held  some  of  the  threads  of  this  wide-spread 
web  these  two  months  past.  But  they  do  not  know  the 
whole  extent  of  it ;  and  at  the  present  moment  they  are 
leaving  almost  all  the  conspirators  at  liberty,  so  as  to 
find  out  all.’ 

‘As  to  right,’  continued  the  notary,  ‘  the  Bourbons  have 
far  more  right  to  conceive  and  plan  and  execute  an  at¬ 
tempt  against  Bonaparte,  than  Bonaparte  had  to  conspire 
on  the  1 8th  Brumaire  against  the  Republic.  He  was  a 
son  of  the  Republic  ;  he  slew  his  mother ;  whereas  the 
Bourbons  want  to  come  back  to  their  house.  The  list 
of  emigres  was  closed,  and  names  have  been  continually 
struck  out  of  it ;  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  has  been 
restored,  and  reactionary  decrees  are  multiplied.  I  can 
understand  that  the  Princes,  seeing  all  this,  know  that 
their  return  would  be  a  difficult  business,  not  to  say 
impossible.  Bonaparte  becomes  the  one  obstacle  in  the 
way,  and  they  wish  to  clear  away  the  obstacle.  Noth¬ 
ing  more  simple.  If  the  conspirators  fail,  they  are  brig¬ 
ands ;  if  they  succeed,  they  will  be  heroes.  Under  the 
circumstances  your  hesitation  seems  to  me  to  be  natural 
enough.’ 

‘This  is  the  question,’  said  Malin.  ‘The  Due  d’En¬ 
ghien  s  head  is  to  be  flung  down  to  the  Bourbons,  as  the 
Convention  flung  down  the  head  of  Louis  XVI  to  the 


j2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Kings  of  Europe ;  and  Bonaparte  must  be  made  to  do  it. 
Then  he  will  be  as  much  implicated  as  the  rest  of  us  in 
the  courses  of  the  Revolution ;  or  else  the  present  idol 
of  the  French  nation  and  their  future  Emperor  will  be  t 
hurled  down,  and  the  real  throne  will  be  raised  on  the 
wreck  of  his  greatness.  I  am  at  the  mercy  of  events  ; 
of  a  well-directed  bullet  •,  of  another  and  more  successfu 
machine  like  the  one  in  the  Rue  Saint  Nicaise.  I  have 
not  been  told  everything.  The  proposal  was  that  I  should 
rally  the  Council  of  State  at  the  critical  moment,  and  con¬ 
trol  the  action  of  the  legal  machinery  that  will  bring  about 
the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons/ 
c  Wait/  suggested  the  notary. 

cl  cannot  wait.  I  have  only  this  present  moment  in 
which  to  make  up  my  mind.’ 

4  How  so  ?  ’  . 

c  The  two  Simeuses  are  in  the  plot.  They  are  here  in 
the  neighbourhood.  I  must  either  raise  a  pursuit,  allow 
them  to  commit  themselves  and  rid  myself  of  them,  or 
else  protect  them  secretly.  I  asked  for  understrappers, 
and  they  send  me  the  pick  of  their  lynxes ;  and  send  them 
through  Troyes  so  that  they  may  have  the  gendarmerie 
at  their  orders.’ 

C  Gondreville  is  a  bird  in  the  hand,  the  conspiracy  is  a 
bird  in  the  bush,’  pronounced  Grevin.  c  Neither  Fouche 
nor  Talleyrand,  your  two  partners,  are  in  it.  Be  above¬ 
board  with  them.  What!  every  man  that  cut  off  King 
Louis’s  head  is  in  the  Government,  France  is  full  of 
buyers  of  National  lands,  and  you  must  try  to  bring  back 
those  that  will  want  Gondreville  again!  Unless  the 
Bourbons  are  downright  idiots  they  will  be  sure  to  pass 
a  sponge  over  all  that  we  have  done.  Warn  Bonaparte.^ 
c  A  man  of  my  rank  does  not  stoop  to  denounce, 

Malin  answered  quickly. 

4  Your  rank  ?  ’  cried  Grevin,  with  a  smile. 

4 1  have  been  offered  the  Seals.’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  33 

‘  I  can  understand  that  you  feel  dazzled ;  it  is  my  duty 
to  see  clearly  through  this  political  darkness,  to  smell  the 
way  out.  Now  it  is  impossible  to  foresee  events  that 
might  bring  back  the  Bourbons,  when  a  General  Bona¬ 
parte  has.  eighty  men-of-war  and  four  hundred  thousand 
men.  It  is  an  even  harder  thing,  in  political  forecasts, 

to riV  h°W  Iong  11  may  be  before  a  tottering  power 
will  fall.  But  Bonaparte’s  power  is  still  in  the  growing 
stage,  old  fellow.  ...  Is  it  not  more  likely  that  Fouche 
has  set  some  one  on  to  sound  you,  so  as  to  know  the 
'  bottom  of  your  mind  and  get  rid  of  you  ?  ’ 

‘No.  I  am  sure  of  the  ambassador.  And  what  is 
more,  Fouche  would  not  send  me  such  a  pair  of  apes ;  for 
I  know  them  too  well  not  to  have,  my  suspicions.’ 

‘  I  am  afraid  of  them,’  answered  Grevin.  ‘  Why  did 
Fouche  send  them,  if  he  does  not  bear  you  a  grudge  and 
has  no  wish  to  put  you  to  the  proof?  Fouche  is  not  the 
man  to  play  .such  a  trick  without  some  reason  for  it.’ 

‘That  decides  me!’  exclaimed  Malin.  ‘I  shall  never 
be  at  peace  with  those  two  Simeuses.  Perhaps  Fouche 
who  knows  my  position,  has  no  mind  to  miss  them,  and 
thinks  to  get  at  Conde  through  them.’ 

‘  Eh  !  old  man,  the  owner  of  Gondreville  is  not  likely  to 
be  disturbed  under  Bonaparte  !  ’  1 

Malm  happening  to  look  up  just  then,  caught  sight  of  a 
gun-barrel  gleaming  among  the  leaves  of  a  great  lime  tree. 

‘I  thought  I  heard  a  click  as  if  some  one  cocked  a 
trigger,  and  I  was  not  mistaken,’  he  remarked,  as  he  took 
his  stand  behind  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree.  The  notary 
followed  him,  startled  by  the  sudden  move. 

‘  It  is  Michu,’  he  said.  « I  can  see  his  red  beard.’ 

‘  Don’t  look  as  if  you  were  frightened,’  resumed  Malin, 
md  he  walked  slowly  away.  ‘What  can  the  man  want 
vith  owners  of  this  place,  for  he  certainly  was  not  aiming 
it  you,  he  repeated  again  and  again.  ‘  If  he  overheard  us, 
t  is  my  duty  to  recommend  him  to  the  prayers  of  the  con- 

c 


2^  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

gregation!  We  should  have  done  better  to  go  out  into 
the  plain.  Who  the  devil  would  have  thought  of  distrust¬ 
ing  the  wind  that  blows  ?  ’ 

t Live  and  learn,’  said  the  notary;  ‘but  he  was  a  long 
way  off,  and  we  were  talking  close  together.’ 

i  I  will  just  mention  it  to  Corentin,’  returned  Malm. 

A  few  minutes  later,  Michu  came  home  again  with  a 

white,  drawn  face.  .  ,  ,  .  -r  >  -c 

‘  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  ’  cried  his  terrified  wife. 
‘Nothing,’  returned  Michu.  He  saw  that  Violette  was 
in  the  house ;  and  for  him  the  man’s  presence  was  like  , 

thunderbolt.  ,  ,  r 

Michu  took  a  chair  and  sat  down  quietly  by  the  hre 
He  drew  out  a  letter  from  a  tin  canister,  such  as  soldiers 
use  to  keep  their  papers  in,  and  flung  the  sheet  on  t  e 
flames.  This  circumstance,  and  Marthe’s  deep  sigh  o 
relief  as  if  some  enormous  weight  were  lifted  off  her  mind, 
tickled  Violette’s  curiosity  not  a  little.  Michu  leant  his 
rifle  against  the  chimney-piece  with  wonderful  coolness 
Marianne  and  the  mother  and  Marthe  were  spinning  in  t  e 

‘  Come,  Francois,’  said  the  bailiff.  ‘Come  along  to  bed 

He  took  the  child  roughly  by  the  waist  and  carried  hin 
off.  Outside  upon  the  staircase  he  dropped  his  voice  to  - 

^‘Go’down  into  the  cellar,’  he  said  in  the  little  lad’s  ear 
‘  Take  two  bottles  of  Macon,  empty  out  one-third  of  each 
and  fill  them  up  with  the  cognac  that  stands  on  the  she 
of  bottles;  then  take  another  bottle  and  fill  it  half  w 
white  wine,  and  half  with  brandy.  Do  it  very  neatly,  an 
put  the  three  bottles  on  the  top  of  the  empty  barrel  by  th 
cellar  door.  As  soon  as  you  hear  me  open  the  window 
come  out  of  the  cellar,  saddle  my  horse,  ride  off  to  th 
Knaves’  Gibbet,  and  wait  for  me  there.’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


35 


c  The  little  rascal  never  will  go  to  bed/  said  Michu 
ben  he  came  back.  c  He  wants  to  do  like  grown-up 
ople,  and  hear  and  see  and  know  all  that  is  going  on. 

set  my  folk  a  bad  example,  Daddy  Violette.’ 
c  Good  Lord  ! ’  cried  Violette,  c  who  has  loosened  your 
ague  ?  You  never  said  so  much  in  your  life  before.’ 

‘  Do  you  think  that  I  let  you  come  and  spy  on  me,  and 
n’t  see  it  ?  You  are  on  the  wrong  track,  Daddy  Violette. 
you  were  on  my  side  instead  of  the  side  of  them  that 
ar  me  a  grudge,  I  would  do  better  yet  for  you  than  a 
aewal  of  your  lease.’ 

c  Better  yet?  What’s  that?’  asked  the  rapacious 
asant,  opening  wide  eyes. 
c  I  would  sell  you  my  land,  cheap.’ 

c  No  bargain  is  cheap  so  long  as  there’s  something  to 
y,’  Violette  remarked  sententiously. 
c  I  want  to  leave  the  neighbourhood,  and  I  will  give  you 
y  farm  at  Mousseau,  —  steadings,  standing  crops,  and  live 
)ck,  —  for  fifty  thousand  francs.’ 
c  Really  ?  ’ 

cDoes  that  suit  you  ?  ’ 
c  Lord,  one  must  see.’ 

c  Let  us  talk  it  over.  But  I  want  a  handsel.’ 
c  I  have  nothing.’ 
c  A  word.’ 
c  Two  if  you  like  !  ’ 

c  Tell  me  who  sent  you  here  just  now  ?  ’ 
l;  c  I  had  gone  and  come  back  again,  and  I  thought  I  would 
f st  look  in  and  wish  you  a  good  night.’ 

1  ‘Come  back  again  and  left  your  horse  behind!  For 
bat  kind  of  an  idiot  do  you  take  me?  It  is  a  lie;  you 
all  not  have  my  farm.’ 

c  Well,  then,  it  was  M.  Grevin,  it  was.  He  said  to  me, 
1  Violette,  we  want  Michu ;  go  and  look  for  him,  and  if  he 
'  not  in,  wait  till  he  comes.”  I  thought  he  meant  me  to 
3p  here  for  the  evening.’ 


36  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

cAre  those  sharks  from  Paris  still  at  the  chateau  ?  ’ 

cAh,  I  am  not  so  sure;  but  there  were  people  in  th 
drawing-room.’ 

c  You  shall  have  my  farm.  Let  us  settle  the  business 
Wife,  go  and  find  wine  for  the  bargain.  Bring  us  some  o 
the  best  Roussillon,  that  belonged  to  the  ex-Marquis.  .  , 
We  are  not  children.  You  will  find  a  couple  of  bottle 
on  the  empty  barrel  by  the  cellar  door,  and  a  bottle  o 
white  wine.’ 

c  It  is  a  bargain,’  said  Violette,  who  never  got  Austere 
with  liquor.  cLet  us  drink.’ 

cYou  have  fifty  thousand  francs  under  the  bricks  on  th 
fioor  of  your  bedroom,  all  along  under  the  bed ;  and  yo 
are  going  to  pay  them  over  to  me  a  fortnight  after  ol 
Grevin  has  passed  the  contract.’ 

Violette’s  eyes  were  fixed  in  a  stare  on  Michu’s  face 
he  grew  ghastly  pale. 

cAha!  You  come  sneaking  round  an  old  hand  of 
Jacobin  that  had  the  honour  to  preside  over  the  Arc 
Club,  and  imagine  that  he  will  not  see  through  you. 
have  eyes  in  my  head.  I  saw  that  your  fioor  had  bee 
newly  laid,  and  I  felt  sure  that  you  had  not  taken  it  up  t 
sow  corn  there.  Let  us  drink.’ 

Violette  was  troubled.  He  drank  off  a  large  glass  wit\ 
out  noticing  the  strength  of  the  liquor ;  terror  was  like 
hot  iron  in  his  vitals,  and  greed  burned  hotter  than  tl" 
brandy.  He  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  be  at  horr 
again  so  as  to  change  the  position  of  his  hoard.  Tl 
three  women  smiled. 

cDoes  that  suit  you?’  continued  Michu,  refilling  Vic 
lette’s  glass. 

c  Why,  yes.’ 

c  You  will  be  under  your  own  roof,  you  old  rogue  !’ 

Half  an  hour  of  warm  discussion  ensued  over  the  da 
of  taking  possession  and  the  endless  points  that  peasan 
raise  over  a  bargain.  Assertions  were  made,  and  glass< 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


37 

ained,  there  were  specious  promises  and  denials,  and 
clamations  — c  That  is  true,  eh  ! ’  — c  Quite  true/  — 
rhat  is  my  last  word  ! 9  — c  As  I  said  before !  ’  — c  I 
ish  I  may  have  my  throat  cut  if — 9 — c  May  the  wine 
dson  me  if  I  am  not  telling  the  clean  truth  5  —  when  in 
e  midst  of  it  all  Violette  lurched  forward  and  lay  with 
s  head  on  the  table ;  not  tipsy,  but  dead  drunk.  Michu, 
itching  him,  had  hurried  to  the  window  and  opened  it, 
hen  the  man’s  eyes  grew  troubled. 

c  Where  is  that  rascal  Gaucher  ?  ’  he  asked,  turning  to 
s  wife. 

c  He  is  in  bed/ 

4  Go  and  sit  across  his  door,  Marianne,’  said  the  bailiff, 
dressing  the  girl,  c  and  keep  a  watch  on  him.  And  you, 
other,  stay  downstairs  and  just  look  after  this  spy  here, 
eep  a  sharp  lookout,  and  don’t  open  the  door  to  any  one 
it  Francois.  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death!  ’  he  added 
a  deep  voice.  c  Every  creature  under  this  roof  must  say 
at  I  have  not  left  the  house  to-night ;  stick  to  that  with 
>ur  heads  on  the  block  !  ’  Then  to  his  wife,  c  Come, 
other,  come,  put  on  your  shoes  and  your  coif,  and  we 
ust  be  off!  No  questions;  I  am  coming  with  you/ 

For  the  last  three  quarters  of  an  hour  there  had  been  a 
;spotic,  irresistible  authority  in  the  man’s  eyes  and  gest- 
*es.  There  is  a  mysterious  source  from  which  men 
•aw  this  extraordinary  power ;  it  is  common  to  the  great 
iptain  who  can  flash  fire  through  the  ranks  of  men  on 
ie  battlefield,  to  the  great  orator  who  carries  away  his 
idience,  and,  let  us  admit  it,  the  great  criminal  draws  on 
ie  same  source  for  his  most  daring  crimes.  An  invincible 
fluence  seems  at  such  times  to  emanate  from  the  man’s 
*ain ;  his  words  are  fraught  with  it ;  his  movements  seem 
>  inject  his  will  into  others.  The  three  women  knew  in- 
inctively  that  some  dreadful  crisis  was  at  hand ;  they  felt 
in  the  swiftness  of  his  actions.  Michu’s  face  was  glis- 
ning,  his  forehead  spoke,  his  eyes  shone  like  stars ;  they 


38  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

had  seen  the  beads  of  sweat  at  the  roots  of  his  hair,  an< 
more  than  once  his  voice  shook  with  impatience  and  rage 
So  Marthe  obeyed  him  passively.  Armed  to  the  teeth,  ant 
gun  on  shoulder,  Michu  made  a  dash  for  the  avenue,  hi 
wife  followed  close  behind  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the1 
reached  the  cross-roads  where  Francois  was  waiting  hiddei 
among  the  brushwood. 

c  The  boy  has  sense/  Michu  remarked,  as  he  notice* 
this.  It  was  the  first  word  that  he  had  spoken.  His  wif 
had  been  running  so  fast  that  she  was  breathless  and  coul 
not  speak. 

c  Go  back  to  the  lodge,  hide  in  the  thickest  tree  by  th 
house,  and  watch  the  country  and  the  park/  said  Michi 
turning  to  his  son.  c  We  are  all  abed,  mind;  we  shall  nc 
open  to  anybody.  Your  grandmother  is  sitting  up,  but  sh 
will  not  stir  until  she  hears  you  speak.  Keep  every  wor 
in  mind.  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death  for  your  fathe 
and  mother.  It  must  never  come  out  in  a  court  of  la\ 
that  we  spent  the  night  out  of  doors.’ 

These  words  were  spoken  in  the  child’s  ear.  Franco: 
slipped  away  through  the  bushes,  like  an  eel  through  th 
mud,  and  Michu  turned  to  his  wife. 

c  Up  with  you/  he  cried,  c  and  pray  God  to  be  with  ut 
Hold  tight !  The  mare  may  drop  dead.’ 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  before  th 
animal  started  off  like  a  race-horse  at  a  blow  from  Michu: 
heels  and  a  strong  grip  of  his  knees.  In  a  quarter  of  a 
hour  they  were  clear  of  the  forest.  Michu  had  kept  to  th 
short  cut,  through  the  darkness,  and  they  stood  on  th 
skirts  of  the  wood,  and  saw  the  roof  ridges  of  the  chatea 
of  Cinq-Cygne  lying  in  the  moonlight.  Michu  tied  th 
horse  to  a  tree,  and  sprang  lightly  up  a  knoll  which  ovei 
looked  the  valley  of  Cinq-Cygne. 

The  chateau  on  which  Marthe  and  Michu  looked  dow 
for  a  moment  was  a  picturesque  detail  in  the  landscape 
It  was  neither  large  nor  of  any  importance  from  an  arch 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  39 

tural  point  of  view,  yet  it  possessed  a  certain  amount  of 
haeological  interest.  The  old  fifteenth  century  edifice 
ad  on  rising  ground,  encircled  by  a  large  walled  moat, 

1  full  of  water.  The  walls  were  built  of  rubble,  but 
y  were  seven  feet  thick,  and  the  very  plainness  of  the 
icture  gave  an  admirable  idea  of  the  rough,  warrior  life 
feudal  times.  It  was  a  very  quaint  chateau,  consisting 
two  massive  reddish-coloured  towers  connected  by  a 
g  building,  with  true  croisees  —  mullion  windows  with 
ne  bars  in  the  form  of  a  cross  rudely  carved  like  vine 
ms.  The  staircase  rose  outside  the  chateau  in  a  pen- 
onal  tower  set  in  the  middle  of  the  front,  and  was  only 
i  :essible  through  a  narrow  door  with  a  pointed  arch. 

The  ground  floor  and  the  first  storey  had  been  modern- 
d  in  the  time  of  Louis  Quatorze,  and  the  huge  roof 
>ve  had  been  pierced  with  dormer  windows,  each  sur- 
>unted  by  a  carved  tympanum. 

In  front  of  the  house  spread  a  great  lawn  divided  in  two 
a  paved  way  through  the  middle.  On  either  side  of 
j  s  lawn  stood  the  various  stables,  cow  sheds,  and  poultry 
-ds,  the  bakery,  and  other  outbuildings  raised  on  the 
ns  of  the  two  wings  of  the  feudal  castle.  The  great 
1  es  which  grew  on  the  lawn  itself  had  only  recently  been 
led.  Two  little  huts  in  which  the  gardeners  lived  stood 
either  side  of  the  bridge  over  the  moat ;  the  iron  gate- 
i  ty  between  them  was  of  feeble  design  and  evidently  mod- 
1 1.  In  former  times  no  doubt  the  chateau  had  been  a 
1  uare  building  about  a  central  court,  with  towers  at  the 
ar  angles  and  a  massive  round  arched  gateway  to  defend 
is  drawbridge  where  the  modern  iron  gateway  stood. 

1  1  this  had  disappeared,  but  the  two  massive  towers  with 
j  eir  pepper-box  roofs  had  escaped  destruction,  and  these 
th  the  bell  turret  in  the  middle  formed  the  principal  feat- 
!  es  of  the  village.  The  spire  of  the  church,  another  old 
ilding  only  a  few  paces  away,  harmonised  with  the  mass 
1  the  castle. 


4°  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

All  the  roofs  and  domes  shone  out  brightly  in  the  fitr 
gleams  of  moonlight.  Michu  was  looking  down  upon  t 
stately  house  in  a  way  that  worked  a  complete  change 
his  wife’s  thoughts  concerning  him;  his  face  was  calmc 
there  was  hope  and  a  kind  of  pride  in  his  expression.  I 
looked  round  the  horizon  with  a  certain  uneasiness,  ai 
listened  to  all  the  sounds  over  the  country-side.  It  mi 
have  been  nine  o  clock  by  this  time ;  the  moon  shone  dov 
upon  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  the  knoll  was  most  bright 
lighted  of  all.  This  state  of  things  the  bailiff  apparent 
considered  to  be  dangerous,  for  he  came  down  as  thoui 
he  were  afraid  of  being  seen.  Yet  there  was  not  a  sour 
to  trouble  the  stillness  in  the  beautiful  valley  shut  in  upc 
this  side  by  the  Forest  of  Nodesme. 

Marthe,  trembling  and  exhausted,  was  expecting  som: 
thing  to  happen  after  such  a  ride.  For  what  were  h< 
services  required  ?  For  a  good  deed  or  a  crime  ?  Mich 
came  up  and  whispered,  c  You  are  to  go  to  the  Comtes^ 
de  Cinq-Cygne;  ask  to  speak  with  her,  and  when  she  come 
ask  for  a  word  with  her  in  private.  When  no  one  ca 
overhear  you,  say,  “  Mademoiselle,  your  cousins  are  in  dar 
ger  of  their  lives.  Some  one  is  waiting  for  you  outside  t 
explain  the  why  and  wherefore.”  If  she  seems  afraid,  i 
she.  cannot  trust  you,  say,  “  They  are  involved  in  a  pk 
against  the  First  Consul  and  the  plot  is  discovered.”  Don 
give  your  name;  they  suspect  us  too  much.’ 

Marthe  Michu  raised  her  face,  and  looked  up  at  her  hus 
band. 

c  Michu,  are  you  doing  this  for  them  ?  ’  she  asked. 
c  Well,  and  if  I  am  ?  ’  asked  he,  knitting  his  brow? 
He  took  her  question  for  a  reproach. 

c  You  do  not  understand,’  she  said;  and  suddenly  sh 
fell  on  her  knees  before  him  and  took  his  big  hand  ii 
hers,  and  kissed  it  and  covered  it  with  tears. 

c  Make  haste  !  ’  he  said  ;  c  you  can  cry  afterwards  ;  ’  anc 
for  a  moment  he  held  her  tightly  in  his  arms. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  41 

When  the  sound  of  his  wife’s  footsteps  had  died  away, 
lere  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  this  man  of  iron.  He  had 
istrusted  Marthe  on  account  of  her  father’s  opinions ;  he 
[ad  kept  the  secrets  of  his  life  from  her;  and  now  the 
eauty  of  his  wife’s  simple  nature  had  been  suddenly 
hvealed  to  him,  just  as  the  greatness  of  his  own  char¬ 
ter  had  dawned  upon  her.  Marthe  passed  from  the 
'ttermost  depths  of  humiliation  —  from  the  woman’s  feei¬ 
ng  that  she  is  degraded  by  the  baseness  of  the  man 
/hose  name  she  bears  —  to  a  rapture  of  glory ;  passed 
addenly  and  without  transition.  Would  it  have  been 
wonderful  if  her  strength  had  failed  her?  The  sharpest 
;ar  had  preyed  upon  her  mind  on  the  way  from  the 
)dge  to  Cinq-Cygne ;  she  had  ‘  walked  through  blood,’  as 
he  told  her  husband  afterwards ;  and  now  in  a  moment 
he  felt  herself  caught  up  to  heaven  among  the  angels. 
And  he,  who  felt  that  he  was  not  appreciated,  who  took 
us  wife’s  melancholy  and  drooping  attitude  for  want  of 
flection,  who  had  lived  out  of  the  house  so  as  to  leave 
er  to  herself,  and  centred  all  his  affection  upon  their 
■  hild  —  he  understood  in  a  moment  all  that  her  tears 
leant,  and  knew  that  she  cursed  the  part  that  her  fair 
ice  and  her  father’s  will  had  forced  her  to  play.  Out 
f  the  midst  of  the  storm  the  brightest  flame  of  joy  had 
>eapt  out  for  them  like  a  lightning-flash.  A  lightning- 
ash  indeed  !  Each  of  them  thought  of  those  ten  years 
f  misunderstanding  and  took  the  whole  blame  of  them, 
/lichu  stood  motionless,  lost  in  deep  musings,  resting 
ne  arm  on  his  gun  and  his  chin  on  his  arm.  Such 

moment  atoned  for  all  the  pain  of  the  most  painful 
■ast. 

i  The  same  thoughts  were  working  in  Marthe’s  mind,  and 
!  ier  heart  was  heavy  at  the  thought  of  the  danger  the  Simeuses 
/ere  running  ;  she  understood  the  whole  position,  even  the 
1  aces  of  the  two  men  from  Paris,  but  she  could  not  explain 
he  rifles  to  herself.  She  fled  like  a  fawn  till  she  reached 


42  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

the  roadway,  and  was  startled  by  the  footsteps  of  a  ma; 
behind  her.  She  cried  out ;  it  was  Michu’s  big  hand  tha 
stopped  her  mouth. 

c  Looking  out  from  the  top  of  the  knoll,  I  saw  th 
gleam  of  the  silver  rims  of  gendarmes’  caps,’  he  said.  c  The 
are  some  way  old'.  Go  round  through  the  gap  in  the  foss 
between  Mademoiselle’s  tower  and  the  stables ;  the  do 
will  not  bark  at  you  ;  come  up  the  garden  and  call  to  th 
Countess  through  the  window ;  tell  them  to  saddle  Made 
moiselle’s  horse  and  to  bring  the  animal  through  the  gaf 
I  shall  be  there.  But  first  I  am  going  to  find  out  whz\ 
these  Parisians  mean  to  do,  and  how  to  escape  them.’ 

The  danger  was  coming  down  upon  them  like  an  av?j 
lanche ;  the  necessity  of  preparing  for  it  gave  Marth 
wings. 

The  Frankish  name,  common  to  the  Cinq-Cygnes  an 
the  Chargeboeufs,  was  DuinefF.  The  younger  branch  o 
the  Chargeboeufs  took  the  name  in  consequence  of  a  defenc 
of  the  castle  once  made  by  five  daughters  of  the  house  i 
the  absence  of  their  father.  No  one  expected  such  con 
duct  of  the  sisters,  all  of  them  famous  for  their  white  fail 
ness.  One  of  the  early  counts  of  Champagne  gave  ther 
the  beautiful  name  to  preserve  the  memory  of  the  deed  s 
long  as  the  family  should  live.  Since  this  extraordinar 
feat  of  arms  the  daughters  of  the  house  carried  their  head 
high,  but  perhaps  not  all  of  them  were  white  as  the  Swam 
Laurence,  the  last  of  her  race,  was  an  exception  to  th 
Salic  law ;  she  inherited  the  name,  the  fief,  and  the  armork 
bearings  ;  for  the  King  of  France  confirmed  the  charte 
granted  by  the  Count  of  Champagne,  in  virtue  of  whic, 
the  Cinq-Cygnes’  lands  and  titles  may  be  handed  down  fror 
mother  to  son.  So  Laurence  was  Countess  of  Cinq-Cygne 
Her  husband  must  take  her  name  and  the  arms  of  her  hous 
and  their  motto,  Mourir  en  chantant ,  the  heroic  answer  mad 
by  the  eldest  of  the  five  sisters  when  summoned  to  surrendei 
— c  they  would  die  singing .’  Laurence  was  a  worthy  descend 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  43 

at  of  those  fair  heroines ;  her  whiteness  seemed  like  a 
aallenge  to  fate.  The  least  outline  of  the  blue  veins  could 
e  seen  beneath  the  delicate  close  tissue  of  skin ;  and  hair 
f  the  prettiest  shade  of  gold  looked  marvellously  fair  with 
yes  of  the  darkest  blue.  Everything  about  Laurence  was 
ny  and  delicate.  But  in  spite  of  her  slender  shape  and 
er  milk-white  skin,  the  soul  that  dwelt  in  her  fragile  body 
'as  tempered  like  that  of  a  man  of  the  loftiest  character; 
o  one,  not  even  an  observer,  would  have  guessed  this  at 
ght  of  her  gentle  expression,  her  aquiline  nose,  and  a  vague 
lggestion  of  a  sheep’s  head  about  her  profile.  Her  ex- 
eeding  gentleness,  high-bred  though  it  was,  seemed  almost 
)  amount  to  lamb-like  stupidity. 

c  I  look  like  a  dreaming  sheep,’  she  sometimes  said  of 
erself,  with  a  smile. 

Laurence,  who  said  so  little,  appeared  to  be  not  so  much 
reamy  as  torpid.  In  a  grave  crisis,  the  Judith  dormant  in 
er  nature  was  revealed  at  once  and  grew  sublime,  and 
rises  unfortunately  had  not  been  wanting. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen,  after  the  events  which  you 
[ready  know,  Laurence  found  herself  an  orphan,  in  a 
ouse  in  Troyes,  opposite  a  heap  of  ruins  which,  but  the 
ay  before,  had  been  the  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne  —  one  of  the 
lost  curious  examples  of  sixteenth  century  architecture. 
1.  d’Hauteserre,  a  relative,  became  her  guardian,  and 
arried  off  the  heiress  to  the  country,  without  loss  of  time, 
"he  Abbe  d’Hauteserre,  his  brother,  was  shot  down  as  he 
ras  escaping  across  the  square,  in  peasant’s  dress ;  and 
lis  had  frightened  the  worthy  gentleman ;  he  was  in  no 
osition  to  defend  his  ward’s  interests.  He  had  two  sons 
1  the  army  with  the  Princes ;  and  every  day  of  his  life,  at 
le  slightest  sound,  he  fancied  that  the  Arcis  authorities 
ad  come  to  arrest  him.  The  old  man  bent  before  the 
:ormy  blast,  and  Laurence,  proud  of  having  stood  a  siege, 
roud,  too,  of  the  white  fairness  traditional  in  her  house, 
>oked  down  contemptuously  upon  his  prudent  cowardice. 


44  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

She  only  thought  of  adding  lustre  to  her  name.  So  si 
had  the  audacity  to  hang  Charlotte  Corday’s  portrait  on  tl 
wall  of  her  poverty-stricken  sitting-room,  and  to  crown  tl 
frame  with  a  little  wreath  of  oak  leaves.  She  correspondi 
with  the  twins  by  messenger ;  the  law  punished  the  offen» 
with  death,  but  she  set  the  law  at  naught ;  and  the  messe; 
ger  brought  answers  back  at  the  risk  of  his  life. 

Since  those  tragic  days  at  Troyes,  Laurence  only  live 
for  the  Royalist  cause.  She  had  formed  pretty  sound  coj 
elusions  as  to  Madame  and  Monsieur  d’Hauteserre ;  si 
saw  that  they  were  good  but  feeble  folk;  the  laws  of  h 
sphere  did  not  apply  to  them.  Laurence  had  too  mud 
sense,  she  was  too  genuinely  indulgent  to  bear  mali< 
against  the  couple  for  being  what  they  were;  she  w 
kind,  amiable,  affectionate  with  them,  but  she  never  ga^ 
any  of  her  secrets  into  their  keeping.  And  nothing  so  shu 
up  the  soul  as  a  life  of  dissimulation  in  the  family  circlj 
When  Laurence  came  of  age,  she  left  the  old  gentleman  i 
manage  her  property  as  before.  If  her  favourite  mare  w; 
well  groomed,  her  maid,  Catherine,  dressed  to  her  tast 
and  her  boy-servant,  Gothard,  properly  turned  out,  si 
cared  little  about  anything  else.  She  turned  her  though 
to  so  lofty  an  end  that  she  could  not  descend  to  occupi 
tions  which  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  pleasant  to  h 
in  different  times.  Laurence  cared  little  for  dress,  ar 
besides,  her  cousins  were  not  there.  She  wore  a  bottb 
green  riding-habit,  or  a  walking  dress  of  some  chea 
material,  with  a  sleeveless  bodice  fastened  with  loops  cl 
twisted  braid ;  and  a  loose  silk  wrapper  in  the  house.  I 

Gothard,  her  little  squire,  a  quick-witted,  mettled  lad  d 
fifteen,  was  her  escort,  for  she  was  almost  always  out  o 
doors.  She  shot  over  the  whole  Gondreville  estate  withoi 
any  opposition  from  the  tenants  or  Michu.  She  sat  h< 
horse  to  admiration,  and  in  sport  her  skill  bordered  on  tl 
miraculous.  The  people  in  the  country-side  always  calle 
her  ‘Mademoiselle’  even  during  the  Revolution. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  45 

Anybody  who  has  read  that  great  romance,  Rob  Roy , 
jst  remember  Diana  Vernon,  for  Scott  in  his  conception 
her  character  made  one  of  his  very  rare  departures  from 
>  ordinary  uninteresting  feminine  types.  That  recollec- 
>n  may  enable  the  reader  to  understand  Laurence,  if  he 
dows  the  Scottish  huntress  with  the  repressed  enthusiasm 
a  Charlotte  Corday,  and  takes  away  the  amiable  liveli- 
ss  that  made  Diana  so  charming. 

Laurence  had  seen  her  mother  die ;  she  had  seen  the 
;>be  d’Hauteserre  shot  down,  and  the  Marquis  and  Mar- 
ise  de  Simeuse  had  perished  on  the  scaffold.  Her  only 
other  had  died  of  his  wounds,  her  cousins  serving  in  the 
my  of  Conde  might  fall  at  any  moment,  and,  finally,  she 
d  seen  the  lands  of  the  Simeuses  and  the  Cinq-Cygnes 
'allowed  down,  nominally  by  the  Republic,  while  the 
-public  had  not  benefited  thereby.  Laurence’s  gravity, 
generating,  to  all  appearance,  into  stupor,  should  be 
nceivable  enough. 

M.  d’Hauteserre,  at  all  events,  proved  himself  a  most 
>right  and  intelligent  guardian.  Under  his  administration 
mq-Cygne  looked  like  a  farm-house.  The  old  gentleman 
as  as  little  as  possible  like  a  valiant  knight-at-arms,  and 
ry  much  more  like  an  improving  landlord.  He  had 
rned  a  couple  of  hundred  acres  or  so  of  park  and  gardens 
good  account ;  grew  all  that  was  wanted  for  the  stables 
d  the  servants,  and  bought  no  firewood.  Thanks  to  the 
detest  economy,  the  young  Countess  recovered  a  sufficient 
rtune  by  the  time  she  came  of  age.  Her  surplus  income 
as  invested  in  the  Funds.  In  1798  the  heiress  derived 
1  income  of  twenty  thousand  francs  from  government 
curities,  on  which,  truth  to  tell,  the  interest  was  over- 
le,  and  twelve  hundred  francs  from  Cinq-Cygne,  for  the 
nt  had  been  notably  raised  when  the  lease  was  renewed. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  had  gone  to  live  in 
e  country  on  an  annuity  of  three  thousand  francs  in  the 
ontine  Lafarge.  They  could  not  afford  to  live  anywhere 


4 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

else  on  the  scanty  remains  of  their  fortune,  so  they  live, 
on  at  Cinq-Cygne,  and  Laurence’s  first  act  on  coming  o 
age  had  been  to  give  them  possession  of  one  wing  of  th 
house  fortheir  lifetime.  The  d’Hauteserres  were  as  penuriou 
for  their  ward  as  they  were  for  themselves.  Every  yea 
they  put  by  a  thousand  crowns  for  their  two  sons.  Th 
heiress  lived  on  poor  fare.  The  total  annual  expenditur, 
of  Cinq-Cygne  did  not  exceed  five  thousand  francs.  Bu 
Laurence  never  went  into  details,  and  felt  quite  satisfie 
with  everything.  And  her  guardian  and  his  wife  uncon 
sciously  fell  under  the  influence  of  a  character  which  mad 
itself  felt  even  in  the  smallest  trifles,  and  ended  by  admirin 
the  girl  whom  they  had  known  as  a  child.  A  thing  the 
happens  seldom  enough.  But  in  Laurence’s  manner,  i 
her  guttural  voice,  in  her  imperious  glance,  there  was  tha 
indescribable  something,  that  inexplicable  power  whic 
never  fails  to  inspire  awe ;  even  when  it  is  only  the  ap 
pearance  of  power;  for  in  a  fool  vacuity  is  very  easily  mi^ 
taken  for  depth,  as  depth  is  beyond  the  comprehension  o 
the  ordinary  mind.  For  which  reasons  many  people  admii 
anything  that  they  do  not  understand. 

Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  were  impressed  by  th 
young  Countess’s  habit  of  silence  and  her  untamed  ways 
they  were  always  expecting  something  great  of  her.  An 
aristocrat  though  she  was,  Laurence  had  won  great  respec 
from  the  peasants,  for  her  discriminating  kindness  to  then 
and  the  fact  that  she  was  not  to  be  deceived.  Her  narru| 
her  sex,  her  misfortunes,  and  her  unusual  life  all  combine] 
to  give  her  an  ascendancy  over  the  people  in  the  valle> 
Sometimes  she  set  out,  taking  Gothard  with  her,  and  wr 
absent  all  day  or  even  for  two  days  together ;  yet  ne 
ther  Monsieur  nor  Madame  d’Hauteserre  asked  her  wh 
she  had  gone  away.  Laurence  (it  must  be  borne  in  mine 
had  nothing  singular  about  her.  The  masculine  natui 
was  hidden  beneath  the  most  feminine  and  apparently  del 
cate  form.  She  had  an  extremely  tender  heart,  but  ther 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  47 

as  virile  resolution  and  stoical  fortitude  in  her  head, 
er  clear-sighted  eyes  had  not  learned  to  shed  tears.  And 
3  one  could  have  imagined  of  that  slender  white  wrist, 
ith  its  faint  tracery  of  blue  veins,  that  it  could  outweary 
te  arm  of  the  most  seasoned  horseman  ;  or  that  her  hand, 
>  soft  and  flexible  as  it  was,  could  manage  a  pistol  or  a 
•wling-piece  with  the  vigour  of  a  practised  sportsman. 
>ut  of  doors  and  on  horseback  Laurence’s  dress  differed 
no  way  from  that  of  other  women ;  she  wore  a  black 
indkerchief  knotted  about  her  white  throat,  a  coquettish 
:tle  beaver  hat  and  a  green  veil,  so  that  her  complexion, 
dicate  though  it  was,  had  never  suffered  from  her  long 
des  in  the  open  air. 

Under  the  Directory  and  the  Consulate,  Laurence  might 
)  as  she  pleased  and  no  one  gave  her  a  thought.  But 
hen  the  Government  became  more  settled,  the  newly 
instituted  authorities,  the  Prefect  of  the  Aube,  Malin’s 
iends,  and  Malin  himself,  all  tried  to  discredit  her. 
Laurence’s  whole  mind  was  engrossed  by  schemes  for 
ferturning  Bonaparte.  Bonaparte’s  ambition  and  triumph 
id  wrought  a  kind  of  frenzy  in  her,  but  it  was  a  frenzy 
7  a  cool  and  calculating  kind. 

In  the  depths  of  her  valley,  in  the  heart  of  the  forest, 
?r  eyes  were  always  fixed  upon  her  purpose  with  a  dread- 
1  fixity  of  gaze  ;  she,  the  unknown,  obscure  enemy  of  the 
an  who  stood  in  the  full  light  of  glory,  thought  sometimes 
7  slaying  him  in  the  grounds  of  Malmaison  or  St.  Cloud, 
‘his  purpose  of  hers  would  be  in  itself  a  sufficient  explana- 
Dn  of  her  out-door  life  and  habits ;  but  after  the  Peace  of 
miens  she  had  been  initiated  into  a  conspiracy,  a  plot  set 
1  foot  by  men  who  thought  to  turn  the  18th  Brumaire 
gainst  the  First  Consul.  Since  that  time  Laurence  had 
'ought  her  whole  strength  and  the  whole  force  of  hate  in 
iv  to  bear  upon  a  vast  and  well-contrived  scheme  for 
riking  down  Bonaparte.  This  was  to  be  operated  from 
ithout  by  the  mighty  coalition  of  Russia,  Prussia,  and 


48  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Austria,  which  as  Emperor  he  defeated  at  Austerlitz  ;  an 
from  within  by  another  coalition  of  men  belonging  to  th 
most  hostile  parties  now  united  by  a  common  hate.  Man 
of  these,  like  Laurence,  meditated  the  death  of  the  Fin 
Consul,  and  were  not  afraid  of  the  word  assassination. 

At  this  moment,  therefore,  a  girl,  so  fragile  in  appeal 
ance,  so  strong  for  those  who  really  knew  her,  was  a  faith 
ful  and  sure  guide  for  the  nobles  who  came  to  and  fr 
between  France  and  Germany  to  take  part  in  this  attacl 
Fouche  was  using  this  co-operation  of  emigres  beyond  th 
Rhine  as  the  basis  of  his  scheme  for  entangling  the  Du 
d’Enghien  in  the  plot;  and  the  presence  of  that  Princ 
in  the  territory  of  Baden,  so  close  to  Strasbourg  and  th 
frontier,  afterwards  gave  weight  to  the  suspicion.  Th 
great  question,  whether  the  Prince  really  had  cognisanc 
of  the  plot,  and  intended  to  enter  France  in  case  of  success 
is  one  of  the  secrets  on  which  the  Bourbon  Princes  hav 
chosen  to  keep  absolute  silence.  Gradually,  as  the  story  o 
the  time  becomes  ancient  history,  it  will  strike  the  impartk 
historian  that  it  was  imprudent,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  in  th 
Prince,  to  come  so  near  the  frontier  at  a  time  when  a  vas 
conspiracy  was  just  about  to  break  out,  especially  as  th 
fact  was  certainly  known  to  the  whole  royal  family. 

In  every  least  thing  involving  the  conspiracy,  Mademoi 
selle  de  Cinq-Cygne  displayed  the  same  prudence  whic 
Malin  showed  when  he  brought  Grevin  into  the  open  ai 
for  his  interview.  She  received  emissaries,  and  conferre 
with  them  on  the  outskirts  of  the  Forest  of  Nodesme,  o 
at  a  place  between  Sezanne  and  Brienne,  beyond  the  valle 
of  Cinq-Cygne.  She  often  rode  between  thirty  and  fort 
miles  at  a  stretch  with  Gothard,  and  came  back  to  Cinq 
Cygne  without  the  slightest  trace  of  weariness  or  preoccu 
pation  on  her  fresh  face.  When  Gothard  was  nine  year 
old,  she  had  read  in  his  eyes  the  ingenuous  admiration  tha 
children  feel  for  anything  extraordinary.  She  took  the  littl 
cowherd  for  her  squire,  and  taught  him  to  rub  down  a  hors 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


49 

carefully  and  thoroughly  as  any  English  groom.  Seeing 
e  boy’s  willingness,  intelligence,  and  disinterestedness,  she 
ade  trial  of  his  devotion,  and  found  not  only  quick-witted- 
ss  but  nobleness  of  nature  in  him.  He  had  no  thought 
reward.  She  set  herself  to  cultivate  a  nature  so  young 
yet.  She  was  kind  to  him,  as  a  great  lady  is  kind ;  at- 
:hing  him  to  herself,  by  attaching  herself  to  him ;  polish- 
y  a  half-wild  character,  while  leaving  it  all  its  sap  and 
nplicity.  And  then,  when  she  had  sufficiently  proved 
e  almost  dog-like  faithfulness  that  she  had  nurtured, 
othard  became  her  ingenious  and  ingenuous  confederate, 
obody  could  suspect  the  little  peasant  boy ;  he  went 
/eral  times  from  Cinq-Cygne  to  Nancy,  and  nobody 
ew  that  he  had  been  from  home. 

Gothard  practised  every  shift  and  stratagem  known  to 
ies.  The  excessive  suspicion  inculcated  by  his  mistress 
is  by  no  means  foreign  to  his  nature.  With  a  woman’s 
t,  a  child’s  innocence,  and  the  continual  mental  alertness 
a  conspirator,  he  hid  these  remarkable  qualities  under  a 
untryman’s  torpor  and  unfathomable  ignorance.  The 
de  man,  to  all  appearance,  was  a  clumsy,  harmless 
Stic ;  but  put  him  at  his  work,  he  was  agile  as  a  fish 
d  slippery  as  an  eel.  Like  a  dog,  he  could  understand  a 
ince,  and  read  thought  by  instinct.  With  his  round,  red, 
od-natured,  homely  face,  his  sleepy,  brown  eyes,  his  hair 
t  in  the  peasant  fashion,  his  childish  dress,  and  his  very 
>w  growth,  he  still  looked  like  a  little  boy  of  ten. 

MM.  d’Hauteserre  and  Simeuse,  with  several  other 
igres,  had  come  by  way  of  Alsace  and  Lorraine  into 
lampagne,  protected  by  their  cousin  Laurence,  who  had 
itched  over  them  all  the  way  from  Strasbourg  to  Bar-sur- 
ibe.  Another  and  no  less  adventurous  band  of  conspira- 
*s  had  landed  meanwhile  under  the  cliffs  of  Normandy, 
le  d’Hauteserres  and  Simeuses,  disguised  as  labourers,  had 
me  on  foot  from  forest  to  forest,  guided  from  place  to 
ice  by  helpers  chosen  by  Laurence  herself.  During  the 

D 


50  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

past  three  months  she  had  found  out  the  most  devot( 
partisans  of  the  Bourbons  among  those  least  liable 
suspicion.  The  emigres  slept  all  day  and  marched 
night.  Each  one  had  brought  two  devoted  soldiers;  one  c 
these  was  sent  on  ahead,  and  another  left  behind  to  cov 
the  retreat  in  case  of  disaster.  Thanks  to  these  milita 
dispositions,  the  dear  detachment  had  reached  the  Forest  c1 
Nodesme,  their  trysting-place,  in  safety.  Another  band  ( 
twenty-seven  gentlemen  came  at  the  same  time  by  w; 
of  Switzerland  and  Burgundy,  taking  similar  precaution 
Altogether  M.  de  Riviere  counted  upon  five  hundred  me 
one  hundred  of  them  being  young  nobles,  the  officers  of  tl 
devoted  band. 

MM.  de  Polignac  and  Riviere,  whose  behaviour 
leaders  was  extremely  remarkable,  kept  the  number  < 
their  accomplices  a  profound  secret ;  their  names  we 
never  known.  It  may  however  be  said  to-day,  after  t] 
revelations  that  were  made  during  the  Restoration,  th 
Bonaparte  no  more  suspected  the  full  extent  of  the  ri 
that  he  ran  in  those  days,  than  England  imagined  the  pe 
with  which  she  was  threatened  by  the  camp  at  Boulogn 
and  yet,  at  no  time  was  the  police  system  more  intelligent 
and  efficiently  worked.  At  the  time  of  the  opening  of  tlj 
story,  one  of  the  poltroons  that  will  always  be  found 
every  conspiracy  which  is  not  confined  to  a  little  band  c 
strong  spirits,  a  single  conspirator  when  brought  face 
face  with  death  gave  information,  luckily  insufficient  as 
the  extent,  but  precise  enough  as  to  the  objects  of  t 
attempt.  For  which  reason  the  police,  as  Malin  had  to 
Grevin,  had  left  the  conspirators  at  liberty  while  th 
watched  them  closely  so  as  to  follow  up  all  the  ramific 
tions  of  the  plot.  Still  the  hand  of  the  Government  h; 
been  in  some  sort  forced  by  Georges  Cadoudal,  an  enc 
getic  leader  who  took  counsel  with  no  one  but  himse 
and  lay  in  hiding  in  Paris  with  twenty-five  Chouans,  reai 
to  attack  the  First  Consul. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  51 

Love  and  hate  were  blended  in  Laurence’s  thoughts. 
0  make  an  end  of  Bonaparte,  and  to  bring  back  the 
)urbons,  —  what  was  this  but  to  regain  Gondreville  and 
make  her  cousins’  fortune  ?  Those  two  opposite  feel- 
ys  are  sufficient  to  bring  out  all  the  powers  of  the  soul 
d  all  the  forces  of  life,  especially  at  the  age  of  three  and 
enty.  Never  before  had  Laurence  looked  so  beautiful 
the  folk  at  Cinq-Cygne  as  she  had  done  of  late  during 
e  past  two  months.  There  was  a  red  colour  in  her 
eeks ;  hope,  at  some  moments,  lent  pride  to  her  brows ; 
d  when  the  Gazette  was  read  aloud  of  an  evening,  and 
ey  heard  the  First  Consul’s  conservative  policy  therein 
t  forth,  she  would  lower  her  eyes  lest  any  one  should 

2  her  conviction  that  the  fall  of  Bonaparte  was  at  hand. 
Nobody  at  the  chateau  suspected,  therefore,  that  the 
)untess  had  seen  her  cousins  on  the  previous  night.  Mon- 
ur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre’s  two  sons  had  slept  in  the 
mntess’s  own  room,  beneath  the  same  roof  with  their 
:her  and  mother;  for  Laurence,  by  way  of  precaution, 
mitted  the  two  d’Hauteserres  between  one  and  two  in 

3  morning,  and  went  to  join  her  cousins  the  Simeuses  in 
2  forest,  where  they  lay  hidden  in  a  deserted  woodman’s 
t.  She  felt  so  sure  of  meeting  them  again,  that  she 
Dwed  not  the  slightest  sign  of  joy,  nor  was  there  a  trace 

excitement  or  suspense  in  her  manner;  in  short,  she 
d  contrived  to  efface  the  expression  of  the  pleasure  she 
d  felt.  She  was  quite  impassive.  Catherine,  her  foster- 
)ther’s  pretty  daughter,  and  Gothard  were  both  in  the 
'ret,  and  followed  their  mistress’s  example.  Catherine 
•s  nineteen  years  old.  A  girl  of  nineteen,  like  Gothard, 
fanatical  in  her  devotion  ;  she  will  not  utter  a  word  with 
'  knife  at  her  throat.  And  as  for  Gothard,  the  rack 
•uld  not  have  drawn  a  syllable  from  him,  after  a  breath 
the  scent  that  clung  about  the  Countess’s  dress  and 
hr. 

While  Marthe  was  gliding  along  like  a  shadow  towards 


52  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

the  gap  of  which  Michu  spoke  when  he  warned  her  th; 
danger  was  nigh  at  hand,  the  scene  in  the  drawing-room  ; 
Cinq-Cygne  was  as  peaceful  as  could  be.  The  family  wei 
so  far  from  suspecting  that  a  storm  was  about  to  burst,  th; 
any  one  who  had  known  their  true  position  must  have  fe 
sorry  for  them.  A  fire  was  blazing  on  the  great  heart 
beneath  the  pier-glass  on  the  wall  where  the  shepherdess* 
in  paniers  were  dancing  —  such  a  fire  as  you  only  see  i 
chateaux  in  a  wooded  country.  j  And,  by  the  fireside,  i 
a  great,  square,  gilded  chair,  covered  with  handsome  sil 
damask,  lay  the  young  Countess,  stretched  at  full  lengtl 
as  it  were,  in  complete  exhaustion.  She  had  only  come  i 
at  six  o’clock,  after  riding  as  far  as  the  Brie  district,  ac 
ing  as  scout  till  she  saw  her  four  nobles  safely  to  tf 
lair  whence  they  were  to  make  the  final  stage  to  Pari 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  had  almost  finishe 
dinner  when  she  came  in ;  so,  famished  as  she  was,  she  s; 
down  to  table  in  her  mud-stained  riding-habit  and  thic 
shoes,  and  when  dinner  was  over  she  felt  too  tired  I 
change  her  dress  after  all  the  day’s  fatigue.  Her  beautifi 
head,  with  its  thick,  bright  curls,  was  resting  on  the  bac 
of  her  large,  low  chair ;  her  feet  were  stretched  out  on 
footstool,  the  splashes  of  mud  on  her  shoes  and  habit  we] 
slowly  drying  in  the  warmth  of  the  fire.  Her  hat  ar 
gloves  and  riding-whip  lay  on  the  console  table,  where  sf 
had  thrown  them  down. 

Now  again  she  glanced  up  at  the  Boule  clock  betwee 
the  two  flowery  branched  candlesticks  on  the  mantle  shel 
and  wondered  whether  the  conspirators  were  in  bed  by  th 
time ;  then  again  she  looked  at  the  card-table  drawn  up  t 
the  fire;  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  were  playin 
their  game  of  boston  with  the  cure  of  Cinq-Cygne  and  h: 
sister. 

Even  if  these  personages  had  not  been  embedded  in  th 
course  of  the  story  their  portraits  would  still  have  thi 
merit,  —  they  give  an  idea  of  one  of  the  positions  taken  u 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  53 

r  the  aristocracy  after  their  defeat  in  1793.  From  this 
)int  of  view,  a  description  of  the  inmates  of  the  drawing- 
om  at  Cinq-Cygne,  may  be  regarded  as  history  in  dressing- 
iwn  and  slippers. 

M.  d’Hauteserre,  a  tall,  spare,  sanguine  man,  aged 
ty-two,  enjoyed  robust  health,  and  might  have  seemed 
pable  of  vigorous  action  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
cessively  simple  expression  of  his  big,  china-blue  eyes, 
n  altogether  disproportionate  space  between  the  mouth 
d  nose  in  a  countenance  terminated  by  a  long,  peaked 
in,  gave  to  that  gentleman  an  appearance  of  meekness 
rfectly  in  accordance  with  his  character,  and  every  little 
tail  of  his  appearance  bore  out  this  impression.  His  grey 
ir,  for  instance,  felted  by  the  pressure  of  the  hat  that  he 
ore  almost  the  whole  day  long,  looked  something  like  a 
ullcap,  completing  the  outline  of  a  pear-shaped  head, 
is  forehead,  deeply  wrinkled  by  an  out-of-door  life  and 
ntinual  anxiety,  was  vacant  and  expressionless.  A  hooked 
>se  lent  a  certain  amount  of  contrast  to  his  face ;  but  the 
ly  signs  of  force  of  character  about  him  were  to  be  found 
the  bushy  eyebrows,  still  black  as  ever,  and  a  high- 
loured  complexion.  Nor  was  this  a  misleading  trait ; 
e  country  gentleman,  simple  and  mild-tempered  though 
was,  held  to  his  monarchical  and  religious  creeds,  and 
•thing  would  have  induced  him  to  change  either  the  one 
the  other.  If  he  had  been  arrested,  the  good,  easy  man 
xild  have  made  no  resistance ;  he  would  not  have  fired 
the  representatives  of  the  authority ;  he  would  have 
)tted  off  quite  meekly  to  the  scaffold.  He  would  have 
migrated  9  if  his  whole  income  had  not  consisted  of  an 
nuity  of  three  thousand  livres  ;  but  as  it  was,  he  submitted 
the  government  de  facto ,  without  faltering  in  his  attach- 
tnt  to  the  royal  family.  He  wished  to  see  the  Bourbons 
ce  more  upon  the  throne,  but  he  would  have  refused  to 
mpromise  himself  by  taking  part  in  any  attempt  to  bring 
sm  back  again. 


54  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

M.  d’Hauteserre  belonged  to  that  section  of  the  Roy 
alist  party  which  could  never  forget  that  it  had  been  beate 
and  robbed,  and  thenceforth  remained  mute,  frugal,  rancoi 
ous,  and  inert.  Incapable  alike  of  forswearing  their  prir 
ciples  or  of  making  any  sacrifice  for  them  ;  perfectly  read 
to  hail  triumphant  royalty ;  friends  of  priests  and  religioi 
they  made  up  their  minds  to  endure  all  the  buffets  of  ac 
verse  fortune.  These  folk  cannot  be  said  to  hold  opinion:! 
they  are  merely  obdurate.  Action  is  the  sine  qua  non  o 
a  political  party.  M.  d’Hauteserre,  loyal  but  unintell 
gent,  close-fisted  as  a  peasant,  yet  lofty  in  his  manners 
bold  in  his  wishes,  yet  discreet  in  words  and  actions,  turr 
ing  everything  to  account  and  quite  ready  to  act  as  mayc 
of  Cinq-Cygne,  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  his  clas: 
He  was  one  of  those  honourable  country  gentlemen  upo 
whose  foreheads  God  has  legibly  written  the  word  c  mite  ’ 
these  stayed  in  their  manor-houses  while  the  storms  of  th 
Revolution  passed  over  their  heads,  emerging  under  th 
Restoration  rich  with  hoarded  savings  and  proud  of  the: 
non-committal  attachment,  only  to  return  to  their  estate 
in  1830. 

M.  d’Hauteserre’s  costume  was  the  expressive  husk  o 
his  character ;  his  dress  portrayed  the  man  and  the  time  i 
which  he  lived.  He  wore  the  nut-brown  greatcoat,  wit 
a  narrow  collar,  brought  into  fashion  by  the  last  Duke  o 
Orleans  after  his  return  from  England;  a  kind  of  com 
promise  between  the  hideous  popular  costume  and  th 
graceful  overcoats  worn  by  the  aristocracy.  A  velv^ 
waistcoat  with  flowered  stripes,  something  after  the  patter 
familiarised  by  Robespierre  and  Saint  Just,  was  cut  lo\ 
enough  to  display  the  beginnings  of  a  little  plaited  shin 
frill.  He  had  not  discarded  the  old-fashioned  small-clothes 
but  they  were  made  of  coarse  blue  cloth  fastened  wit 
steel  buckles.  Black  silk  stockings  clung  to  the  outline1 
of  a  pair  of  stag’s  legs,  and  his  heavy  shoes  were  kept  iJ 
place  by  black  cloth  gaiters.  His  throat  was  enveloped  b 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  55 

e  multitudinous  folds  of  a  muslin  stock,  fastened  by  a 
>ld  buckle.  The  good  man  by  no  means  aimed  at  express- 
g  his  political  eclecticism  in  a  costume  in  which  peasant, 
volutionary,  and  aristocrat  were  nicely  blended;  he  had 
lite  innocently  bowed  to  circumstances. 

Madame  d’Hauteserre  was  a  woman  of  forty,  aged 
r  emotion ;  with  a  faded  face  that  seemed  always  to  be 
)sed  for  a  portrait ;  a  lace  cap  adorned  with  upstanding 
tin  bows  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  solemnity  of  her 
jr.  She  still  wore  powder  in  spite  of  her  dress  of  a 
ter  period ;  a  white  kerchief,  and  a  puce-coloured  silk 
>wn  with  tight  sleeves  and  a  very  full  skirt,  the  last  sober 
>stume  worn  by  Marie  Antoinette.  Her  nose  was 
nched,  her  chin  pointed,  her  face  almost  triangular,  but 
ie  continued  to  put  on  the  “  suspicion  ”  of  rouge  which 
nt  brightness  to  the  eyes  that  had  shed  so  many  tears, 
nd  she  took  snuff,  omitting  none  of  those  little  dainty 
ecautions  which  the  fine  ladies  of  a  previous  age  carried 
the  point  of  affectation  ;  a  host  of  small  observances 
most  amounting  to  a  rite,  and  all  explained  by  a  few 
ords  —  Madame  d’Hauteserre  had  pretty  hands, 
j  A  Minorite  abbe,  Goujet  by  name,  a  friend  of  the  late 
bbe  d’Hauteserre  and  tutor  of  the  two  Simeuses,  had  taken 
ie  cure  of  Cinq-Cygne  for  his  retreat  for  the  past  two 
iars,  out  of  friendship  for  the  d’Hauteserres  and  the  young 
ountess.  Mademoiselle  Goujet,  his  sister,  rich  to  the 
ctent  of  seven  hundred  francs  per  annum,  united  her 
come  to  the  cure’s  slender  stipend,  and  kept  house  for 
>r  brother.  Neither  the  church  nor  the  parsonage  had 
ien  sold  because  they  were  worth  so  little.  So  the  Abbe 
roujet  lodged  close  by  the  chateau,  for  the  parsonage 
irden  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  park  wall.  Twice  a 
!  eek,  he  and  his  sister  dined  at  the  chateau,  and  every 
^ening  they  came  for  a  game  of  cards  with  the  d’Haute- 
:rres.  Laurence  did  not  know  a  single  game. 

1  The  Abbe  Goujet  had  a  pleasant  smile  and  a  gentle, 


5 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

winning  voice.  His  hair  was  white ;  his  face,  too,  wa 
white  as  an  old  woman’s  ;  an  intelligent  forehead  and  a  pai 
of  very  keen  eyes  redeemed  his  almost  doll-like  counts 
nance  from  insipidity.  A  well-made  man  of  average  height 
he  continued  to  wear  the  Frenchman’s  black  coat,  silve 
buckles  at  his  knees  and  on  his  shoes,  black  silk  stockings 
and  a  black  waistcoat  with  white  bands,  which  gave  him  i 
certain  grand  air,  while  it  took  nothing  from  his  dignity. 

The  Abbe  (he  became  Bishop  of  Troyes  after  th 
Restoration)  had  gained  a  considerable  insight  into  th 
characters  of  young  people  in  the  course  of  his  former  life 
he  had  divined  Laurence’s  greatness ;  he  fully  appreciate 
her,  and  from  the  first  treated  the  young  girl  with  a  re 
spectful  deference  which  contributed  not  a  little  to  give  he 
an  independent  position  at  Cinq-Cygne;  the  austere  ol< 
lady  and  the  good  gentleman  gave  way  to  Laurence,  instead 
of  requiring  obedience  of  her  in  the  usual  fashion.  Fo 
the  past  six  months  the  Abbe  Goujet  had  been  watchinj 
Laurence  with  that  genius  of  observation  peculiar  to  priests 
the  most  perspicacious  of  all  human  beings.  He  did  no 
know  that  this  girl  of  three  and  twenty  was  thinking  of  de 
throning  Bonaparte,  while  her  fragile  fingers  were  twistin- 
the  loops  of  braid  on  her  riding-habit;  still  he  thought  tha 
some  great  purpose  was  fermenting  in  her  mind. 

Mademoiselle  Goujet  was  a  spinster  whose  portrait  cat 
be  given  in  two  words  which  will  call  up  her  image  befor 
the  least  imaginative  mind.  She  was  a  woman  of  the  big 
gawky  type.  She  knew  she  was  ugly.  She  was  the  firs: 
to  laugh  at  her  ugliness,  showing  as  she  laughed  a  set  ol 
long  teeth  as  yellow  as  her  complexion  and  her  bony  hands 
Mademoiselle  Goujet  was  unfailingly  cheerful  and  kind 
She  wore  the  well-known  old-fashioned  jacket,  very  full 
skirts,  a  pocket  always  full  of  keys,  a  cap  trimmed  witl 
ribbons,  and  a  false  front.  She  looked  like  a  woman  oii 
forty  long  before  she  reached  that  age,  but  she  made  up  fo 
it,  as  she  said,  by  looking  very  much  the  same  for  twent; 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  57 

ears  together.  Mademoiselle  Goujet  had  a  great  venera- 
on  for  the  noblesse ;  she  knew  how  to  preserve  her  own 
ignity  while  rendering  to  noble  birth  its  dues  of  respect 
nd  homage. 

Their  society  was  very  welcome  to  Madame  d’Hauteserre; 
nlike  her  husband,  she  had  no  out-of-door  occupations, 
or  had  she,  like  Laurence,  a  strong  hatred  to  brace  her  to 
le  endurance  of  a  lonely  existence.  Life  had  grown  in 
f  )me  sort  bearable  during  the  past  six  years.  The  Catho- 
c  Church  had  been  re-established ;  there  were  religious 
uties  to  be  fulfilled  (and  these  vibrate  through  life  in  the 
ountry  as  they  never  do  anywhere  else).  The  First  Con- 
iFs  conservative  action  reassured  Monsieur  and  Madame 
’Hauteserre;  latterly  they  had  been  able  to  correspond 
fith  their  sons,  they  had  news  of  them  in  return.  They 
eed  no  longer  tremble  for  their  children,  and  begged  them 
)  make  application  to  be  erased  from  the  List  of  emigres 
nd  to  come  back  to  France.  The  Treasury  had  cleared 
If  arrears  and  punctually  continued  to  pay  dividends  quarter 
y  quarter,  so  that  the  d’Hauteserres  had  rather  more  than 
aeir  annuity  of  eight  thousand  francs.  Old  M.  d’Hauteserre 
pplauded  his  own  sagacity  and  foresight.  His  savings  for  his 
fard,  together  with  his  own  (some  twenty  thousand  francs) 
ad  been  invested  in  the  Funds  before  the  18th  Brumaire 
snt  them  up,  as  all  the  world  knows,  from  twelve  to 
ighteen  francs. 

For  years  Cinq-Cygne  remained  bare,  empty,  and  deso- 
ite,  M.  d’Hauteserre  having  prudently  determined  to  make 
o  changes  so  long  as  the  Revolutionary  commotion  lasted; 
ut  after  the  Peace  of  Amiens  he  went  to  Troyes  to  buy 
ack  some  relics  of  the  sack  of  the  two  mansions,  from 
econd-hand  furniture  dealers.  Thanks  to  his  pains,  the 
i  rawing-room  had  been  furnished.  The  six  windows  were 
domed  with  handsome  curtains  of  white  silk  damask  with 
j  green  flower-pattern,  which  once  hung  in  the  Hotel 
imeuse.  The  whole  great  room  had  been  newly  wain- 


58  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

scoted  with  panels,  each  one  framed  in  strips  of  beading 
with  masks  by  way  of  ornament  at  the  corners,  and  the 
whole  was  painted  in  two  shades  of  grey.  Various  sub¬ 
jects,  in  the  grey  cameo  style  in  fashion  under  Louis  XV. 
covered  the  frieze  panels  above  the  four  doors ;  and  the 
good  man  had  found  gilded  console  tables  at  Troyes,  as 
well  as  a  suite  of  furniture  in  green  silk  damask,  a  crystal 
chandelier,  an  inlaid  card-table,  and  everything  that  might 
serve  to  restore  Cinq-Cygne. 

All  the  furniture  of  the  chateau  had  been  plundered  in 
1792,  for  the  sack  of  the  town  houses  was  followed  by 
a  sack  in  the  valley.  Every  time  that  M.  d’Hauteserrq 
went  to  Troyes,  he  came  back  again  with  some  few  relics 
of  ancient  splendour ;  sometimes  it  was  a  handsome  car¬ 
pet,  like  the  one  which  covered  the  drawing-room  floor ; 
sometimes  it  was  a  piece  of  plate,  or  old  Dresden  oq 
Sevres  china.  Six  months  ago  he  had  ventured  to  dig  up 
the  Cinq-Cygne  silver  plate,  which  the  cook  had  buried 
in  a  little  house  belonging  to  him,  at  the  end  of  one  of 
the  straggling  suburbs  of  Troyes. 

This  faithful  servant,  Durieu  by  name,  and  his  wife, 
had  always  followed  their  young  mistress’s  fortunes.  Du¬ 
rieu  was  the  man-of-all-work  at  the  chateau,  and  his  wife 
was  housekeeper.  Catherine’s  sister  was  kitchen-maid, 
and,  under  Durieu’s  training,  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  an 
excellent  cook.  An  old  gardener  and  his  wife,  their  son, 
a  day  labourer,  and  their  daughter,  the  dairymaid,  com¬ 
pleted  the  staff  of  servants  at  the  chateau.  Six  months 
since,  La  Durieu  had  secretly  made  a  livery  in  the  Cinq- 
Cygne  colours  for  Gothard  and  the  gardener’s  son,  a  piece 
of  imprudence  for  which  the  old  gentleman  scolded  her 
soundly ;  but  she  could  not  refuse  herself  the  pleasure 
of  having  dinner  served  almost  as  it  used  to  be  in  old 
times  at  the  feast  of  St.  Laurence,  Mademoiselle’s  patron; 
saint.  As  for  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  and 
the  Durieus,  this  slow,  difficult  progress  of  restoration  was; 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  59 

iie  joy  of  their  lives,  though  Laurence  used  to  smile  at 
fhat  she  called  childishness.  But  old  M.  d’Hauteserre 
30k  no  less  thought  for  substantial  matters ;  he  repaired 
uildings,  reconstructed  walls,  put  in  a  tree  wherever  there 
/as  a  chance  for  it  to  grow,  and  made  every  inch  of 
round  yield  a  return.  Wherefore  the  valley  of  Cinq- 
Oygne  regarded  him  as  an  oracle  in  matters  pertaining  to 
griculture.  He  contrived  to  recover  a  hundred  acres  of 
and  contested  but  not  sold,  and  confounded  with  the  com- 
non  land  by  the  commune.  These  he  turned  into  arti¬ 
ficial  pastures  for  the  cattle  of  the  chateau,  planting  the 
neadows  round  with  poplar  trees,  which  had  sprung  up  to 
dmiration  in  six  years.  He  purposed  to  buy  back  more 
and  by  and  by,  and  to  turn  the  buildings  at  the  chateau 
o  account  on  a  second  farm  which  he  meant  to  manage 
limself. 

So  for  the  last  two  years,  life  had  grown  almost  happy  at 
Cinq-Cygne.  M.  d’Hauteserre  was  up  and  out  at  sunrise, 
ooking  after  his  men,  for  he  was  an  employer  of  labour  all 
:hrough  those  times.  He  came  in  to  breakfast,  and  after¬ 
wards  made  his  rounds  like  any  keeper  on  a  farmer  s  nag ; 
"hen  returning  to  dinner,  he  finished  off*  his  day  with 
Doston.  Every  one  at  the  chateau  had  his  or  her  occupa¬ 
tions  ;  life  in  a  convent  was  not  more  regular.  Laurence 
was  the  only  person  who  brought  disturbance  into  it  by 
her  sudden  journeys  and  absences  from  home;  her c  flights,’ 
as  Madame  d’Hauteserre  called  them.  Nevertheless  there 
were  two  parties  at  Cinq-Cygne,  and  causes  of  dissension, 
jr  In  the  first  place,  Durieu  and  his  wife  were  jealous  of 
Gothard  and  Catherine  who  lived  in  greater  intimacy  with 
their  young  mistress,  the  idol  of  the  household.  Then  the 
d’Hauteserres,  supported  by  Mademoiselle  Goujet  and  her 
brother,  were  anxious  that  their  sons  and  the  Simeuses  like¬ 
wise  should  return  to  share  the  happiness  of  this  peaceful 
life,  instead  of  living  in  discomfort  abroad.  Laurence 
denounced  this  compromise  as  infamous.  She  represented 


60  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

pure,  implacable,  militant  Royalism.  The  four  old  people 
had  no  wish  to  see  prospects  of  a  happy  existence  any 
longer  in  jeopardy,  nor  to  risk  the  loss  of  the  little  nook  of 
land  won  back  from  the  torrent  deluge  of  the  Revolution. 
They  tried  to  convert  Laurence  to  their  truly  prudent 
doctrines,  for  they  saw  that  her  influence  counted  for  2 
good  deal  in  the  opposition  made  by  the  emigres  to  all  pro¬ 
posals  for  a  return  to  France.  The  guardians,  poor  things, 
were  frightened  by  their  ward’s  superb  disdain.  The\ 
were  afraid  that  she  was  meditating  some  rash  deed,  and 
they  were  not  mistaken. 

This  difference  of  opinion  in  the  family  had  flashed 
suddenly  out  after  the  explosion  of  the  infernal  machine  in 
the  Rue  Saint  Nicaise,  the  first  Royalist  attempt  upon  the 
life  of  the  conqueror  of  Marengo,  after  his  refusal  to  treat! 
with  the  House  of  Bourbon.  The  d’Hauteserres  thought 
it  a  fortunate  thing  that  Bonaparte  had  escaped  the  danger, 
quite  believing  that  Republicans  were  the  authors  of  the 
outrage.  Laurence  shed  angry  tears  because  the  First 
Consul  was  saved.  Her  despair  got  the  better  of  her  habit 
of  dissimulation ;  she  accused  God  of  betraying  the  son  of 
St.  Louis. 

i  Ah  !  ’  she  cried,  c7  would  have  succeeded  !  ’  Then 
seeing  the  unutterable  amazement  in  their  faces,  she  turned 
to  the  Abbe  Goujet.  c  Have  we  not  a  right  to  make  use 
of  all  possible  means  against  a  usurper  ?  ’ 

c  The  Church  has  been  impugned  and  severely  blamed 
by  the  philosophies,  my  child,  because  in  former  times  she 
held  that  it  was  justifiable  to  turn  a  usurper’s  weapons 
against  himself;  and  in  these  days  the  Church  owes  sc 
much  to  M.  le  Premier  Consul  that  she  cannot  but  protect 
and  guarantee  him  from  the  consequences  of  a  maxim, 
due  moreover  to  the  Jesuits.’ 

c  So  the  Church  forsakes  us  !  ’  she  had  answered,  with  2 
dark  expression  in  her  face. 

From  that  day,  whenever  the  four  old  people  began  tc 


6i 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 

alk  of  submission  to  Providence,  the  young  Countess  left 
he  room.  And  for  some  time  past  the  cure  (more  adroit 
han  the  guardian)  had  ceased  to  discuss  principles,  and 
welt  on  the  material  advantages  offered  by  the  consular 
overnment ;  not  so  much  with  a  view  to  converting  the 
Countess,  as  to  try  to  gain  light  upon  her  projects  by 
matching  the  expression  of  her  eyes  at  unguarded 
noments. 

Laurence  rode  abroad  more  than  ever.  Gothard’s  fre- 
[uent  absences  from  home,  Laurence’s  preoccupation,  which 
n  these  last  days  rose  to  the  surface  and  appeared  on  her 
ace,  a  whole  host  of  little  things  in  short,  which  could 
lot  escape  observation  in  the  quiet,  peaceful  life  at  Cinq- 
; Oygne,  and  certainly  did  not  escape  the  anxious  eyes  of  the 
l’Hauteserres,  the  Abbe  Goujet,  and  the  Durieus,  —  all  this 
twakened  the  fears  of  Royalist  resignation.  But  nothing 
eemed  to  come  of  it ;  the  most  perfect  serenity  prevailed  in 
he  political  atmosphere  for  some  days,  and  the  little  house- 
lold  in  the  chateau  settled  down  into  peace  as  before.  Every- 
>ody  thought  that  the  Countess’s  passion  for  sport  accounted 
'or  her  wanderings. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  deep  silence  that  prevailed 
n  the  park  and  the  courtyards  and  all  about  the  chateau  of 
Cinq-Cygne  at  nine  o’clock  at  night.  Everything  and  every 
)ne  was  so  harmoniously  coloured,  a  deep  peace  brooded  over 
he  household,  plenty  had  returned,  and  the  good  and  prudent 
:ountry  gentleman  had  hopes  of  converting  his  ward  to  his 
heories  of  submission  by  a  continuance  of  happy  results. 
They  were  sitting  over  their  boston,  which  game  of  cards 
vas  first  invented  in  honour  of  the  revolted  American 
:olonies ;  all  the  terms  used  in  it  recalled  the  struggle 
encouraged  by  Louis  XVI,  and  the  idea  of  independence 
became  familiar  to  Frenchmen  in  this  frivolous  manner. 
But  while  the  players  scored  their  c  independences  ’  and 
•  miseres,’  they  were  watching  Laurence. 

Drowsiness  soon  overcame  her ;  she  fell  asleep  with  an 


62  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

ironical  smile  hovering  on  her  lips.  Her  last  conscious 
thought  had  been  of  the  party  seated  so  quietly  at  the  card- 
table,  when  two  words  from  her,  telling  the  d’Hauteserre! 
that  their  son  had  spent  the  previous  night  beneath  theii 
roof,  would  have  struck  the  deepest  consternation  into  al 
four  of  them.  What  girl  of  three  and  twenty  would  no- 
have  felt,  as  Laurence  felt,  proud  to  shape  fate,  and  sharec 
the  faint  stirrings  of  compassion  which  she  felt  for  those  sc 
far  beneath  her  ? 

c  She  is  asleep,’  said  the  abbe.  ‘  I  have  never  seen  he 
look  so  tired.’ 

‘Durieu  said  that  the  mare  was  almost  foundered, 
remarked  Madame  d’Hauteserre;  ‘her  gun  had  not  beer 
used.  The  cartridge  chamber  was  clean ;  so  she  has  no 
been  out  shooting.’ 

‘Fiddle-de-dee!’  returned  the  cure,  ‘that  amounts  tc 
nothing.’ 

‘Pooh  !  ’  cried  Mademoiselle  Goujet,  ‘when  I  was  three 
and  twenty  and  saw  that  I  was  doomed  to  be  an  old  maid 
I  ran  about  and  tired  myself  very  much  more.  I  can  under 
stand  that  the  Countess  may  go  about  the  country  withou 
any  notion  of  shooting  game.  She  has  not  set  eyes  on  he 
cousins  for  twelve  years  ;  she  is  fond  of  them,  very  good 
in  her  place,  now,  if  I  were  young  and  pretty,  I  should  gc 
straight  into  Germany.  And  perhaps  she  feels  attracted  tc 
the  frontier,  poor,  dear  child.’ 

‘  Mademoiselle  Goujet,  you  are  improper,’  said  the  cun! 
smiling. 

‘  Why,  you  are  fidgeting  over  the  goings  and  comings  oil 
a  girl  of  three  and  twenty,  and  I  explain  it,’  said  she. 

‘  Her  cousins  will  come  back.  She  will  be  rich,  and  she 
will  settle  down  in  the  end,’  old  d’Hauteserre  added. 

‘God  send  she  may!’  cried  old  Madame  d’Hauteserre 
bringing  out  her  gold  snuff-box.  (It  had  seen  the  ligh 
since  Bonaparte  became  Consul  for  life.) 

‘  There  is  news  in  the  country-side,’  continued  ok 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  63 

’Hauteserre,  addressing  the  cure.  c  Malin  came  down  to 
iondreville  yesterday  evening.5 

‘  Malin  ? 5  exclaimed  Laurence,  awakened  by  the  name, 

1  spite  of  her  profound  slumber. 

‘  Yes,5  said  the  cure, c  but  he  is  going  back  again  to-night, 
nd  people  are  lost  in  conjecture  over  his  sudden  journey.5 

<•  That  man  is  the  evil  genius  of  our  two  houses,5  said 
^aurence. 

She  had  been  dreaming  about  her  cousins  and  the 
’Hauteserres,  and  danger  had  threatened  them  in  her 
ream.  Her  beautiful  eyes  grew  wan  as  she  stared  before 
her  and  thought  of  the  perils  that  they  must  encounter  in 
>aris.  She  rose  abruptly  and  went  up  to  her  room,  the 
j  hamber  of  honour,  with  a  dressing-room  and  an  oratory 
ituated  in  the  tower  nearest  the  forest. 

Soon  after  Laurence  left  the  drawing-room  the  dogs  be- 
ran  to  bark,  somebody  rang  the  bell  at  the  gate,  and  Durieu 
:ame  in  consternation  to  announce,  c  Here  comes  the 
nayor  !  This  is  something  fresh  ! 5 

The  mayor,  one  Goulard,  had  once  been  one  of  the  late 
Marquis  de  Simeuse’s  huntsmen.  He  used  to  come  occa¬ 
sionally  to  Cinq-Cygne,  and  the  d’Hauteserres  considered 
t  politic  to  treat  him  with  a  deference  which  the  man  val- 
led  highly.  He  had  married  a  wealthy  tradeswoman  from 
Troyes  ;  his  wife’s  property  lay  in  the  commune  of  Cinq- 
3ygne,  and  he  himself  had  added  to  it  by  investing  all  his 
savings  in  the  lands  of  a  rich  abbey.  He  and  his  wife  lived 
ike  two  rats  in  a  cathedral,  at  the  great  Abbey  of  Val-des- 
Preux,  about  half  a  mile  away,  a  great  place  almost  as  stately 
is  Gondreville. 

c  Goulard,  you  have  been  a  glutton  !  ’  Mademoiselle  said 
aughing,  when  she  first  saw  him  at  the  chateau. 

The  mayor  was  warmly  attached  to  the  Revolution,  and 
the  Countess  received  him  coldly  ;  but  he  always  felt  bound 
by  the  ties  of  respect  to  the  Cinq-Cygnes  and  the  Simeuses, 
and  for  this  reason  he  shut  his  eyes  to  much  that  went  on 


64  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

there.  He  was  blind  to  the  portraits  of  Louis  XVI, 
Marie  Antoinette,  the  Children  of  France,  Monsieur  the 
Comte  d’ Artois,  de  Cazales,  and  Charlotte  Corday,  which 
adorned  the  panels  of  the  drawing-room  ;  and  deaf  to  wishes 
for  the  downfall  of  the  Republic,  or  to  scoffing  at  the  expense 
of  the  Five  Directors  and  other  political  arrangements  of 
those  days;  and  this  he  called  shutting  his  eyes/  Like! 
many  other  upstarts,  he  recovered  his  belief  in  the  old  fam¬ 
ilies  as  soon  as  his  fortune  was  made ;  he  wanted  to  con¬ 
nect  himself  with  them,  and  this  position  of  affairs  had  just 
been  exploited  by  the  two  personages  whom  Michu  had  so 
promptly  recognised  as  spies.  Corentin  and  Peyrade  had 
made  a  survey  of  the  district  before  they  went  to  Gondre¬ 
ville. 

The  worthy  described  as  the  depositary  of  the  best  tra¬ 
ditions  of  the  old  police,  and  Corentin,  phoenix  of  spies, 
were  in  fact  employed  on  a  secret  mission.  Malin  was 
not  mistaken  when  he  assigned  a  double  part  to  that  pail 
of  artists  in  tragic  farce.  They  were  arms  under  thej 
direction  of  a  head  which  should  perhaps  be  revealed  before 
they  are  seen  at  their  work. 

When  Bonaparte  became  First  Consul,  Fouche  was  the 
director-general  of  police.  The  Revolution  had  frankl} 
and  with  reason  made  a  special  department  of  this  branch 
of  the  service,  but  when  Bonaparte  came  back  after  Ma¬ 
rengo,  he  created  a  prefecture  of  police,  installed  Dubois  as 
prefect,  summoned  Fouche  to  the  Council  of  State,  anc 
nominated  Cochon  (of  the  Convention,  afterwards  Comte 
de  Lapparent)  as  Fouche’s  successor.  Fouche  regardec 
the  office  of  Minister  of  Police  as  the  most  important  of 
all  in  a  government  which  took  large  views,  and  followec 
a  definite  political  programme ;  he  therefore  took  the 
change  as  a  disgrace,  or,  at  any  rate,  as  a  sign  of  distrust 
Then  came  the  affair  of  the  infernal  machine  and  the  plo 
which  forms  the  subject  of  this  history;  and  Napoleon  recog¬ 
nised  the  fact  that  no  man  could  be  compared  with  Foucht 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  65 

n  fitness  for  his  office.  Yet,  later,  the  Emperor  took 
alarm  at  the  talents  which  Fouche  displayed  in  his  absence. 
After  the  Walcheren  affair  he  made  the  Duke  of  Rovigo 
bis  Minister  of  Police,  and  appointed  the  Duke  of  Otranto 
to  be  Governor  of  the  Illyrian  Provinces,  which  practically 
meant  that  he  sent  him  into  exile. 

Fouche’s  extraordinary  genius,  which  struck  a  kind  of 
dread  into  Napoleon,  did  not  become  apparent  all  at  once. 
An  obscure  member  of  the  Convention,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  and  misjudged  men  of  the  time,  he  was  formed 
in  tempests.  Under  the  Directory  he  reached  an  elevation 
whence  profound  natures  can  see  the  future  by  judging  the 
past,  and  then  quite  suddenly,  as  a  mediocre  actor  some¬ 
times  attains  excellence  with  a  flash  of  inspiration,  he  gave 
proofs  of  his  skill  during  the  rapid  revolution  of  the  18th 
Brumaire.  Slowly  and  silently  this  pale-faced  creature  — 
trained  in  monastic  dissimulation,  deep  in  the  confidence  of 
the  Jacobin  party,  to  which  he  belonged,  and  possessed  of 
the  secrets  of  the  Royalists,  to  whom  he  went  over  at  the 
last  —  had  studied  men  and  affairs  and  the  interests  at  stake 
in  the  political  arena.  He  divined  Bonaparte’s  secret  wishes 
and  intentions,  and  gave  him  useful  advice  and  valuable  in¬ 
formation.  He  had  shown  himself  to  be  a  man  of  resource, 
and  useful  to  the  government;  and  he  was  satisfied  to  do  no 
more.  He  had  no  mind  to  make  a  complete  revelation  of 
himself;  he  meant  to  remain  at  the  head  of  affairs;  and 
Napoleon’s  uncertainty  with  regard  to  him  gave  him  a  free 
hand  in  politics.  The  Emperor’s  ingratitude,  or,  to  be 
more  accurate,  his  suspicion,  after  the  Walcheren  affair, 
throws  a  new  light  on  the  character  of  the  man ;  un¬ 
fortunately  for  himself  he  was  no  grand  seigneur ,  and  he 
modelled  his  conduct  upon  that  of  the  Prince  de  Talleyrand. 

At  this  particular  moment,  not  one  of  his  former  or  pres¬ 
ent  colleagues  suspected  the  extent  of  his  genius,  a  purely 
administrative,  essentially  departmental  genius,  accurate  in  all 
forecasts,  and  sagacious  beyond  belief.  Any  impartial  his- 

E 


66  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

torian  must  see,  at  this  distance  of  time,  that  Napoleon’s 
prodigious  egoism  was  one  of  the  many  causes  which 
brought  about  Jiis  downfall,  a  cruel  expiation  of  his  errors. 
In  that  suspicious  sovereign,  there  was  a  certain  jealousy 
of  his  new-born  power,  a  jealousy  which  influenced  all  his 
actions  at  least  as  strongly  as  his  private  dislike  of  that 
group  of  able  men  (a  valuable  legacy  left  him  by  the  Revo¬ 
lution)  of  whom  he  might  have  formed  a  cabinet  to  be  the 
depositary  of  his  thoughts.  Others,  beside  Talleyrand  andi 
Fouche,  aroused  his  suspicions.  It  is  the  misfortune  of  a 
usurper  that  he  is  bound  to  have  two  separate  sets  of  enemies, 
those  who  gave  him  his  crown,  and  those  from  whom  he 
took  it.  Napoleon  never  wholly  won  sovereignty  over  thd 
men  who  had  been  at  first  his  superiors  and  afterwards  hi< 
equals ;  nor,  again,  over  sticklers  for  the  rightful  succes¬ 
sion.  Nobody  felt  that  the  oath  of  allegiance  was  binding. 

Malin  was  a  mediocrity ;  he  was  quite  incapable  of 
appreciating  Fouche’s  dark  genius ;  he  did  not  distrusij 
that  quick  comprehensive  glance.  So  he  singed  himself) 
like  a  moth  in  the  candle  flame.  He  went  to  Fouche  tq 
ask  him  in  confidence  to  send  some  agents  of  police  tc 
Gondreville.  He  had  hopes,  he  said,  of  throwing  a  ligh 
on  the  plot.  Fouche  was  very  careful  not  to  startle  hi* 
friend  by  putting  any  question  to  him,  but  he  asked  himself 
why  Malin  was  going  to  Gondreville,  and  how  it  was  tha 
he  did  not  communicate  any  information  that  he  happenec 
to  have  at  once  in  Paris.  The  ex-oratorian,  nurtured  ir 
dissimulation,  and  well  aware  that  many  members  of  the 
Convention  were  playing  a  double  part,  said  to  himself :  — 

‘  How  comes  it  that  Malin  knows  something,  when  w* 
as  yet  know  next  to  nothing  ? ’ 

Naturally  Fouche  concluded  that  Malin  was  either  impli 
cated  already  or  had  designs  of  his  own ;  but  he  was  ven 
careful  to  say  nothing  to  the  First  Consul.  He  preferred 
not  to  ruin  Malin,  but  to  make  a  tool  of  him.  This  waj 
Fouche’s  way.  Most  of  the  secrets  that  he  discovered  h 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


67 

:ept  to  himself;  he  husbanded  his  power  over  people, 
md  his  power  was  even  greater  than  Bonaparte’s.  This 
iuplicity  was  one  of  Napoleon’s  grievances  against  his 
Minister. 

Fouche  knew  that  Malin  had  gained  his  estate  at  Gondre^ 
dlle  by  rascality  ;  he  knew,  too,  that  Malin  was  obliged  to 
ceep  on  the  watch  for  the  Simeuses.  The  Simeuses  were 
;erving  in  the  Army  of  Conde,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
2ygne  was  their  cousin.  They  might  very  likely  be  some¬ 
where  in  the  neighbourhood ;  possibly,  also,  they  were 
nvolved  in  the  plot ;  and,  if  this  were  so,  the  House  of 
^onde,  to  which  they  were  devoted,  was  certainly  likewise 
nvolved.  Altogether,  M.  de  Talleyrand  and  Fouche  held 
t  important  to  gain  light  upon  this  very  obscure  corner  of 
:he  conspiracy  of  1803. 

All  these  considerations  Fouche  saw  with  swift  lucidity 
}f  comprehension.  But  the  relation  in  which  Malin  and 
Talleyrand  stood  to  one  another  obliged  him  to  proceed 
with  the  utmost  circumspection,  and  therefore  he  wished 
to  have  the  most  complete  information  as  to  the  interior 
tof  the  chateau  of  Gondreville.  Corentin  was  wholly  in 
Fouche’s  interest,  just  as  M.  de  la  Besnardiere  was  at¬ 
tached  to  Talleyrand,  Gentz  to  Metternich,  Dundas  to  Pitt, 
Duroc  to  Napoleon,  or  Chavigny  to  Cardinal  Richelieu. 
And  Corentin  was  not  merely  Fouche’s  adviser,  he  was  his 
'  familiar,  his  ame  damnee ,  a  Tristan  in  secret  to  a  Louis  XI 
ton  a  small  scale.  It  was  therefore  material  that  Fouche 
should  leave  him  in  the  police  department,  so  as  to  have 
i  an  eye  and  a  hand  there.  People  said  that  the  young  fellow 
was  related  in  some  way  to  Fouche;  that  he  was  one 
of  those  connections  which  are  never  acknowledged;  for 
■  Corentin’s  services  were  always  lavishly  rewarded.  Cor¬ 
entin  had  made  a  friend  of  Peyrade,  a  pupil  trained  by  the 
last  of  the  lieutenants  of  police ;  still  he  had  secrets  even 
from  Peyrade.  Fouche’s  orders  to  Corentin  had  been  to 
explore  the  chateau  at  Gondreville,  to  have  the  whole  place 


68  A  Gondreville  Mystery- 

mapped  out  in  his  memory,  and  to  discover  every  possible 
hiding-place. 

‘We  may  perhaps  be  obliged  to  go  there  again,’  he  had 
said,  exactly  as  Napoleon  told  his  lieutenants  to  make  a 
careful  survey  of  the  field  of  Austerlitz,  on  which  he  ex¬ 
pected  to  fall  back. 

It  was  Corentin’s  task,  besides,  to  make  a  study  of 
Malin’s  behaviour.  He  was  to  ascertain  the  man’s  in¬ 
fluence  in  the  district  and  to  notice  the  kind  of  men  in  his 
employ.  Fouche  felt  quite  certain  that  the  Simeuses  were 
somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  by  playing  the  spy 
discreetly  upon  two  officers  in  high  favour  with  Conde, 
Peyrade  and  Corentin  might  gain  invaluable  light  upon 
the  ramifications  of  the  plot  beyond  the  Rhine.  In  any 
case,  Corentin  had  money,  authority,  and  men  sufficient 
to  surround  Cinq-Cygne  and  to  put  the  whole  district 
between  the  Forest  of  Nodesme  and  Paris,  under  the 
surveillance  of  a  spy  system.  Fouche’s  injunction,  how¬ 
ever,  was  to  proceed  with  the  greatest  caution  ;  they  were 
not  to  make  the  domiciliary  visit  to  Cinq-Cygne  unless 
Malin  himself  gave  them  positive  information.  Finally,  as 
a  part  of  his  instructions  Fouche  had  given  Corentin  an 
account  of  the  inexplicable  personality  of  this  Malin  whom 
he  had  watched  for  three  years.  Corentin’s  thought  was 
in  his  chiefs  mind  at  the  same  time. 

1  Malin  knows  about  this  conspiracy !  .  .  .  But  who 
knows  whether  Fouche  is  not  in  it  too  ?  ’  he  added  within 
himself. 

Corentin  set  out  for  Troyes  before  Malin  started;  came 
to  an  understanding  with  the  commandant  of  gendarmerie ; 
chose  out  the  most  intelligent  of  the  men  and  a  keen¬ 
witted  captain  for  their  leader.  To  this  captain,  Corentin 
gave  orders  to  divide  his  men  in  four  groups  of  a  dozen,! 
and  to  post  them  after  nightfall  at  four  different  points  in 
the  valley  of  Cinq-Cygne.  These  groups,  on  picket  duty, 
were  to  be  placed  sufficiently  far  apart,  for  fear  of  giving 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  69 

the  alarm,  and  gradually  to  close  in  till  they  formed  a 
square  about  the  chateau. 

When  Malin  went  out  for  his  conference  with  Grevin, 
he  gave  Corentin  an  opportunity  of  fulfilling  one  part  of 
his  mission.  And  when  the  State  Councillor  came  back 
from  his  interview  in  the  park,  he  stated  so  positively  that 
the  Simeuses  and  the  d’Hauteserres  were  actually  in  the 
neighbourhood,  that  Corentin  and  Peyrade  despatched 
their  captain  on  his  errand.  Very  luckily  for  the  gentle¬ 
men  in  hiding,  the  gendarmes  went  through  the  forest,  by 
way  of  the  avenue,  while  Michu  was  plying  Violette  the 
spy  with  drink. 

Malin  had  begun  by  telling  Peyrade  and  Corentin  about 
the  trap  from  which  he  had  just  escaped.  The  two  men 
from  Paris,  thereupon,  related  the  incident  of  the  rifle. 
Grevin  sent  Violette  down  to  the  lodge  to  see  what  was 
going  on,  and  Corentin  asked  the  notary  to  take  his  friend 
to  spend  the  night  under  his  roof  in  the  little  town  of  Arcis, 
for  greater  security.  So  it  happened  that  while  Michu  was 
galloping  across  the  forest  to  Cinq-Cygne,  Peyrade  and 
Corentin  started  out  from  Gondreville  in  a  shabby  basket- 
chaise  drawn  by  a  post-horse,  and  the  man  who  drove  them 
was  the  constable  of  gendarmerie  from  Arcis,  one  of  the 
smartest  men  in  the  force;  they  had  taken  him  on  the 
particular  recommendation  of  the  commandant  at  Troyes. 

‘  The  best  way  of  getting  hold  of  them  is  to  give  them 
warning,’  Peyrade  remarked  to  Corentin.  ‘  Then  when 
they  are  scared,  and  try  to  save  their  papers  or  to  fly,  we 
will  drop  down  on  them  like  a  thunderbolt.  When  the 
ring  of  gendarmes  closes  in  about  the  chateau,  we  shall 
have  them  in  a  net.  We  shall  get  them  all  in  that  way. 

‘  You  might  send  the  mayor  to  warn  them,’  suggested 
the  constable.  ‘  He  is  well  disposed  to  them  ;  he  does  not 
wish  them  harm.  They  will  not  suspect  him.’ 

•  Goulard  was  just  going  off  to  bed  when  Corentin 
stopped  the  chaise  in  a  little  wood,  and  went  alone  to  tell 


70  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

him  (in  confidence)  that  in  another  minute  or  two  a  gov¬ 
ernment  agent  would  require  him,  the  mayor,  to  give  his 
assistance  to  surround  Cinq-Cygne,  and  to  seize  MM.  de 
Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre  at  the  chateau.  If  these  gentle¬ 
men  had  disappeared,  it  must  be  ascertained  whether  they 
had  spent  the  previous  night  there.  Mademoiselle  de 
Cinq-Cygne’s  papers  were  to  be  searched,  and  probably 
the  whole  household  would  be  put  under  arrest. 

4  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  has  interest  with  power¬ 
ful  persons,  no  doubt,’  continued  Corentin,  c  for  my  secret 
instructions  are  to  give  her  warning,  and  to  do  all  that  I 
can  to  save  her,  without  committing  myself.  Once  on 
the  spot,  I  cannot  act  on  my  own  responsibility ;  I  am  not 
alone.  So  hurry  off  to  the  chateau.’ 

A  visit  from  the  mayor  in  the  middle  of  the  evening 
was  the  more  surprising  to  the  card-players  because 
Goulard  turned  a  perturbed  countenance  upon  them. 

4  Where  is  the  Countess  ?  ’  he  inquired. 

4  She  has  gone  to  bed,’  replied  Madame  d’Hauteserre. 

The  mayor  lent  an  incredulous  ear  to  the  sounds  above. 

4  What  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day,  Goulard  ?  ’  added 
Madame  d’Hauteserre. 

Goulard  looked  around  upon  their  faces  ;  each  one  ex¬ 
pressed  that  complete  innocence  which  may  survive  to 
any  age.  He  sank  into  the  utmost  depths  of  astonishment. 
At  sight  of  the  quiet,  harmless  game  of  boston  interrupted 
by  his  entrance,  the  suspicions  of  the  Paris  police  grew 
utterly  inconceivable. 

Laurence  meanwhile,  in  her  oratory,  was  kneeling  in 
passionate  prayer  for  the  success  of  the  plot !  She  prayed 
to  God  to  give  help  and  strength  to  Bonaparte’s  murder¬ 
ers  !  The  fanatical  zeal  of  a  Harmodius,  a  Judith,  a 
Jacques  Clement,  an  Anckarstroem,  a  Charlotte  Corday,  a 
Limoelan  inspired  a  pure  and  noble  maiden  soul.  Cather¬ 
ine  was  turning  back  the  sheets,  and  Gothard  was  closing 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  71 

he  shutters ;  so  that  when  Marthe  Michu  flung  a  pebble 
ip  at  the  window  he  saw  her  at  once.  u 

4  Mademoiselle !  ’  he  called,  at  sight  of  the  stranger, 
something  has  happened.’ 

4  Hush  !  ’  whispered  Marthe,  4  come  and  speak  to  me.’ 

Gothard  was  down  and  out  in  the  garden  in  less  time 
han  a  bird  takes  to  fly  from  the  tree-top  to  the  ground. 

4  The  gendarmerie  will  be  round  the  chateau  in  another 
minute.  .  .  .  Go  and  saddle  Mademoiselle’s  horse ;  don’t 
make  any  noise,  and  come  round  through  the  gap  in  the 
rosse  between  the  stables  and  the  tower.’ 

Laurence  had  followed  Gothard,  and  stood  a  couple  of 
Daces  away.  Marthe  quivered  at  sight  of  her. 

4  What  is  it  ?  ’  Laurence  asked,  simply  and  without  a 
sign  of  discomposure. 

4  The  plot  against  the  First  Consul  is  discovered,’  Marthe 
answered,  lowering  her  voice  for  the  Countess’s  ear.  4  My 
husband  is  thinking  how  to  save  your  cousins.  He  sent 
me  to  ask  you  to  come  to  speak  with  him.’ 

Laurence  drew  back  a  step  or  two  and  looked  full  at 
Marthe. 

4  Who  are  you  ?  ’  she  asked. 

4  Marthe  Michu.’ 

4 1  do  not  know  what  you  want  with  me,’  Laurence 
returned  coolly. 

4  But  you  are  sending  them  to  their  death !  for  the 
Simeuses’  sake,  come !  ’  cried  Marthe,  falling  on  her  knees 
and  holding  out  her  hands  entreatingly.  4  Are  there  any 
papers  here,  anything  that  can  compromise  you  ?  My 
husband,  up  yonder  in  the  forest,  saw  the  rims  of  the 
gendarmes’  caps  and  the  barrels  of  their  guns.’ 

Gothard  had  begun  by  scrambling  into  the  loft.  He 
saw  the  glitter  of  laced  uniforms,  and  heard  the  sound  of 
horse  hoofs  through  the  stillness.  He  dropped  down  into 
the  stable  and  saddled  his  mistress’s  horse ;  Catherine,  at  a 
word  from  him,  tied  the  animal’s  feet  in  linen  bandages. 


7  2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  Where  must  I  go  ?  ’  asked  Laurence,  for  the  unmis¬ 
takable  ring  of  truth  in  the  words  and  the  expression  of 
Marthe’s  face  had  struck  her  forcibly. 

c  Through  the  gap,’  said  Marthe,  hurrying  her  along. 

4  That  noble  man  of  mine  is  there.  You  shall  learn  what 
a  Judas  is  worth/ 

Catherine  ran  into  the  drawing-room,  caught  up  her 
mistress’s  gloves,  hat  and  veil  and  riding-whip,  and  went 
out  again.  Catherine’s  sudden  appearance  was  such  an 
eloquent  commentary  on  the  mayor’s  words  that  Madame 
d’Hauteserre  and  the  Abbe  Goujet,  exchanging  glances, 
read  a  horrible  thought  in  each  other’s  eyes.  4  Good-bye 
to  all  our  happy  life  !  Laurence  is  plotting  against  the 
Government ;  her  cousins  and  the  two  d’Hauteserres  are 
lost,  and  it  is  her  doing  !  ’ 

4  What  do  you  mean  ?  ’  asked  Madame  d’Hauteserre, 
turning  to  Goulard. 

4  Why,  the  chateau  is  surrounded;  you  are  to  receive  a 
domiciliary  visit.  In  short,  if  your  sons  are  here  in  the 
house,  help  to  save  them  and  the  Simeuses.’ 

‘My  sons!’  cried  Madame  d’Hauteserre  in  bewilderment. 

4  We  have  seen  nobody  here,’  began  her  husband. 

4  So  much  the  better !  ’  returned  Goulard.  4  But  I  am  too 
much  attached  to  the  family  of  Cinq-Cygne  and  the  Simeuses 
to  bear  to  see  any  misfortune  happen  to  them.  Mind 
what  I  say  —  if  you  have  any  compromising  papers - ’ 

4  Papers  ?  ’  repeated  old  M.  d’Hauteserre. 

4  Yes ;  if  there  are  any,  burn  them,’  returned  the  mayor. 

4 1  will  go  and  keep  these  people  in  play.’ 

Goulard  had  a  mind  to  hold  with  the  Royalist  hare  andj 
to  run  with  the  Republican  hounds.  He  went  out,  and  the 
dogs  began  to  bark  furiously. 

4  It  is  too  late,’  said  the  cure ;  4  here  they  are.  But  who 
is  going  to  tell  the  Countess  ?  Where  is  she  ?  ’ 

4  Catherine  did  not  come  in  for  her  hat  and  gloves  and  j 
riding-whip  to  make  relics  of  them,’  remarked  Mademoi-  i 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  73 

lie  Goujet.  For  some  minutes  Goulard  tried  to  gain 
me  by  assuring  the  two  police  agents  that  the  people  in 
e  chateau  of  Cinq-Cygne  knew  nothing  whatever  about 
le  matter. 

Peyrade  laughed  in  his  face. 

c  You  don’t  know  those  folk/  he  said,  and  with  that  the 
iir  entered  the  house.  At  sight  of  their  ominously  bland 
>untenances  and  the  constable  from  Arcis  and  the  gen¬ 
uine  appearing  behind  them,  the  four  peaceable  boston 
ayers  felt  the  blood  freeze  in  their  veins.  They  stayed 
•  their  places,  appalled  by  such  a  display  of  force.  Half 
score  of  gendarmes  were  stationed  outside,  for  the  sound 
horses  pawing  the  ground  reached  them  across  the 
wn. 

c  Every  one  is  here  except  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
!ygne/  remarked  Corentin. 

c  But  she  is  asleep,  no  doubt,  in  her  own  room/  said 
1.  d’Hauteserre. 

c  Ladies,  come  with  me/  said  Corentin.  He  sprang 
:ross  the  antechamber  and  up  the  staircase,  Madame 
'Hauteserre  and  Mademoiselle  Goujet  following  him. 
!orentin  turned  to  the  older  lady.  c  Count  upon  me/ 
s  whispered.  c  I  am  one  of  your  own  side.  I  sent  the 
layor  to  you  just  now.  Beware  of  my  colleague,  and 
ust  me ;  I  will  save  you  all ! 9 
c  But  what  is  it  ? 5  asked  Mademoiselle  Goujet. 
c  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death!  Do  you  not  see 
lat  ? 9  Corentin  replied. 

Madame  d’Hauteserre  fainted.  To  Mademoiselle  Gou¬ 
t’s  great  surprise,  and  Corentin’s  no  less  great  disappoint- 
ient,  Laurence’s  room  was  empty.  Corentin  felt  sure 
lat  no  creature  could  escape  out  of  the  park  or  the 
hateau  into  the  valley.  Every  issue  was  guarded.  So 
e  ordered  up  a  gendarme  into  every  room,  instituted  a 
lorough  search  through  the  stables  and  outbuildings,  and 
rent  down  again  to  the  drawing-room.  By  this  time, 


74  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Durieu,  his  wife,  and  the  rest  of  the  household  hac 
rushed  thither  in  a  state  of  terrific  excitement.  Peyrade’: 
little  blue  eyes  scrutinised  every  face,  he  was  the  one  coo 
and  unmoved  spectator  of  the  commotion. 

Corentin  came  down  alone,  for  Mademoiselle  Gouje| 
was  attending  to  Madame  d’Hauteserre.  As  he  came  in] 
they  heard  the  sound  of  trampling  horses  and  the  wail  oi 
a  child.  The  horses  came  through  the  gateway;  and  ii 
the  midst  of  the  general  anxiety  and  terror,  the  constabL 
appeared,  pushing  Gothard,  whose  hands  were  tied,  an< 
Catherine,  before  the  agents  of  police. 

4  Here  are  some  prisoners,’  said  he.  4  This  little  rasca 
was  on  horseback,  and  ran  away.’ 

4  Idiot !  ’  muttered  Corentin,  to  the  bewilderment  of  th 
constable.  4 Why  didn’t  you  let  them  alone?  We  migh 
have  found  out  something  by  following  them.’ 

Gothard  had  decided  to  burst  into  tears  in  an  idioti< 
fashion.  Catherine’s  expression  of  artless  innocence  se 
the  old  agent  of  police  meditating  profoundly.  Lenoir’ 
scholar  compared  the  boy  and  girl ;  he  had  already  made 
close  scrutiny  of  the  whole  party,  —  of  the  intelligent  cure 
who  was  toying  with  the  counters  on  the  table,  of  th 
bewildered  servants,  and  the  Durieus.  M.  d’Hauteserre 
with  his  simple  countenance,  he  took  for  a  very  deep  ol 
gentleman.  He  went  across  to  Corentin  and  said  in 
low  voice,  4  We  have  not  to  do  with  fools.’ 

For  answer  Corentin  glanced  significantly  at  the  card 
table.  4  They  were  playing  at  boston,’  said  he ;  4  th 
mistress  of  the  house  was  going  to  bed ;  they  have  beej 
taken  at  unawares ;  we  shall  have  them  fast  directly.’ 

A  gap  always  has  its  uses ;  there  was  never  a  gap  ye 
without  a  reason  for  it.  Now  for  the  why  and  wherefor 
^f  the  breach  between  the  stables  and  the  tower  tha 
they  call  Mademoiselle’s  Tower  to  this  day.  At  on 
time,  the  surface  water  of  the  forest  had  been  draine 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


75 

F  by  a  long  gully  into  the  castle  moat.  When  old  M. 
Hauteserre  came  to  Cinq-Cygne,  he  turned  the  gully 
to  a  roadway  across  the  uncultivated  lands  of  the  cha- 
au,  simply  for  the  purpose  of  planting  out  some  hundred 
*  so  of  walnut  saplings  which  he  found  in  a  plantation, 
'hat  was  eleven  years  ago.  The  walnut  trees  since  then 
id  grown  tolerably  thick,  almost  overspreading  the  lane 
hich  lay  six  feet  below  the  banks  on  either  side,  and 
ided  in  a  coppice  about  thirty  acres  in  extent,  —  a  recent 
archase. 

When  every  one  was  at  home  at  the  chateau,  the  whole 
Dusehold  preferred  the  short  cut  by  the  breach  in  the 
>sse,  to  the  longer  way  round  over  the  bridge  to  the 
immunal  road  that  followed  the  park  walls.  It  was 
le  nearer  way  to  the  farm ;  so,  quite  unintentionally, 
le  gap  was  enlarged  on  either  side,  and  with  the  less 
:ruple  because  a  fosse  is  utterly  useless  in  the  nineteenth 
mtury,  and  M.  d’Hauteserre  often  talked  of  turning  it 
)  account.  Earth,  gravel,  and  stones  were  continually 
ulled  down  from  the  sides,  until  at  last  the  bottom  of 
,ie  ditch  was  filled  in,  and  a  sort  of  causeway  raised  high 
id  dry  above  the  water,  which  only  covered  it  in  very 
liny  weather.  Still,  in  spite  of  this  dilapidation,  in  which 
le  Countess  herself  did  her  part,  the  place  was  so  steep 
lat  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  take  a  horse  up  through  the 
reach,  while  the  climb  to  the  communal  road  was  more 
ifficult  still;  but  it  would  seem  that  in  danger  a  horse 
lakes  his  master’s  thought  his  own. 

While  the  Countess  was  hesitating  to  follow  Marthe 
id  asking  for  explanations,  Michu,  watching  from  his 
noil,  saw  the  moving  lines  of  gendarmes,  comprehended 
ie  spies’  plan,  and  gave  all  up  for  lost  as  no  one  came. 
k  picket  of  gendarmes  followed  the  park  walls,  and  spread 
lemselves  out  like  sentinels,  —  one  man  just  so  far  from 
ie  next  that  he  could  see  him  and  hear  him  call.  Not 
ie  least  thing,  not  the  faintest  rustle,  could  escape  them. 


76  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Michu,  lying  flat  on  his  stomach,  with  his  ear  close  to  th 
ground,  calculated  the  time  that  remained,  Indian  fashion 
by  the  loudness  of  the  sound. 

4  I  have  come  too  late  !  *  he  said  to  himself.  4  Violett 
shall  pay  for  this.  What  a  time  he  took  to  get  drunk 
What  is  to  be  done  ? ’ 

He  heard  another  picket  pass  through  the  iron  gate 
Apparently  the  men  had  come  down  from  the  forest,  fo 
another  band  came  to  join  them  by  way  of  the  communa 
road. 

4  Five  or  six  minutes  still  left,’  he  thought.  And  at  tha 
moment  the  Countess  appeared.  Michu’s  strong  hand 
caught  her  and  dropped  her  into  the  shaded  lane.  4  G 
straight  ahead  !  Show  her  the  way  to  the  place  where  m 
horse  is  standing,’  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife,  4  and  don’ 
forget  that  gendarmes  have  ears.’ 

Danger  stimulated  Michu’s  imagination.  At  sight  o 
Catherine  with  the  hat  and  gloves  and  riding-whip,  he  re 
solved  to  outwit  the  gendarmes  as  he  had  outwitted  Violette 
especially  as  Gothard  came  up  just  then  with  the  mare 
the  boy  had  forced  her  to  climb  the  gap  as  if  by  magic. 

4  Bandages  on  the  mare’s  hoofs  !  I  could  kiss  you/  h 
cried,  hugging  Gothard  in  his  arms.  He  left  the  anim; 
to  follow  her  mistress,  and  took  the  hat  and  gloves  an 
riding-whip. 

4  You  have  your  wits  about  you,  you  will  understan 
me,’  continued  he.  ‘Force  your  horse  up  into  the  roac 
Ride  bare-backed,  trail  the  gendarmes  after  you,  and  ru 
for  your  life  towards  the  farm.  Just  draw  off  all  th 
picket  in  a  body/  he  added,  waving  a  hand  in  the  directio 
Gothard  was  to  take.  Then  he  turned  to  Catherine. 

4  As  for  you,  my  girl,  there  are  some  more  gendarme 
coming  down  on  us  from  Gondreville.  Off  with  you  i 
the  opposite  direction,  and  draw  the  picket  away  from  th 
chateau  into  the  forest.  In  fact,  manage  so  that  we  sha 
have  no  trouble  with  them  here  in  the  hollow.’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


77 

Catherine  and  the  remarkable  child,  who  was  to  give  so 
any  proofs  of  intelligence  in  the  course  of  this  affair, 
>th  executed  this  manoeuvre  with  such  skill,  that  a  line 
’  gendarmes  on  either  side  believed  that  their  prey  was 
Jcaping  them. 

It  was  impossible  in  the  uncertain  moonlight  to  make 
re  of  the  sex,  dress,  or  number  of  the  fugitives,  so  the 
hole  picket  was  soon  in  hot  pursuit  on  the  strength  of 
e  fallacious  axiom  that  c  any  one  who  runs  away  ought 
be  stopped/  The  folly  of  this  course  in  the  higher 
anches  of  the  detective  service  had  subsequently  been 
>inted  out  to  the  constable  by  Corentin  in  forcible  lan- 
lage  ;  but  Michu  had  reckoned  rightly  upon  the  gen- 
rmes’  instinct.  He  was  able  to  reach  the  forest  some 
conds  after  the  Countess.  Marthe  had  led  the  way  to 
e  spot. 

‘  Run  back  to  the  lodge,’  Michu  said  to  his  wife.  c  The 
rest  is  sure  to  be  guarded  by  the  Parisians;  it  is  not  safe 
stay  here.  We  shall  want  all  our  liberty,  I  have  no 
•ubt.’ 

Michu  untied  his  horse  as  he  spoke,  and  asked  the 
Duntess  to  follow  him. 

c  I  shall  go  no  further,’  said  Laurence,  c  unless  you  give 
e  some  pledge  of  the  interest  that  you  take  in  me. 
fter  all,  you  are  Michu - ’ 

‘Mademoiselle,’  he  said  gently, c  two  words  will  explain 
e  part  I  am  playing.  I  am  the  MM.  de  Simeuse’s 
istee,  all  unknown  to  them.  I  took  my  instructions 
)m  my  lord,  their  late  father,  and  their  dear  mother,  my 
troness.  So  I  have  played  the  part  of  rabid  Jacobin,  to 
rve  my  young  masters ;  unluckily  I  began  the  game  too 
:e ;  my  old  master  and  mistress  I  could  not  save.’ 

Michu’s  voice  faltered. 

c  Since  the  young  gentlemen  fled,  I  have  sent  them  the 
Dney  they  needed  to  live  as  befitted  their  rank.’ 

1  Through  the  firm  of  Breintmayer,  at  Strasbourg  ?  * 


78  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

L  Yes,  Mademoiselle,  Strasbourg  correspondents  of  M 
Girel  of  Troyes.  M.  Girel  is  a  Royalist,  but  to  save  hi 
property  he  turned  Jacobin  as  I  did.  That  paper  whicl 
your  farmer  picked  up  one  evening  coming  out  of  Troyes 
referred  to  this  business ;  it  might  have  got  us  both  int< 
trouble,  and  my  life  was  not  my  own  but  theirs.  Do  yoi 
understand  ?  I  could  not  get  possession  of  Gondreville 
They  would  have  wanted  to  know  where  I  got  so  mud 
money,  and,  situated  as  I  was,  they  might  as  well  have  cu 
my  throat.  I  preferred  to  wait  and  buy  later  on ;  but  th 
scoundrel  Marion  was  acting  for  that  other  scoundre 
Malin.  Gondreville  shall  go  back  to  its  owners  all  th 
same.  That  is  my  affair.  Four  hours  ago,  I  had  Mali 
at  the  end  of  my  rifle ;  oh,  he  was  past  praying  for 
Lord  !  once  he  was  dead,  there  would  be  a  compulsor 
sale,  and  you  could  buy  the  place.  If  anything  happene 
to  me,  my  wife  would  have  brought  you  a  letter  that  woul, 
have  given  you  the  means.  But  that  brigand  was  tellin, 
his  crony  Grevin  (another  of  the  scum  of  the  earth)  the 
the  MM.  de  Simeuse  were  plotting  against  the  First  Con 
sul,  that  they  were  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  that  it  woul 
be  better  to  betray  them  and  be  rid  of  them  so  as  to  ow 
Gondreville  in  peace.  Now,  as  I  had  just  set  eyes  on  tw 
arrant  spies,  I  took  the  charge  out  of  my  rifle,  and  lost  n 
time  over  coming  here.  I  thought  that  you  ought  t 
know  where  and  how  the  young  gentlemen  could  tj 
warned.  That  is  all.’ 

c  You  are  worthy  to  be  a  noble,’  said  Laurence,  holdin 
out  her  hand.  Michu  made  as  if  he  would  kneel  to  ki; 
it,  but  Laurence  stopped  him. 

c  Stand  up,  Michu,’  she  said,  and  something  in  her  tor 
and  look  made  him  as  happy  at  that  moment  as  he  ha 
been  unhappy  for  twelve  years  past. 

‘You  are  rewarding  me,’  he  said,  c  as  if  I  had  done  a 
that  I  have  yet  to  do.  Do  you  hear  those  gallows-pu 
veyors  ?  Come,  let  us  talk  somewhere  else.’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  79 

Michu  took  the  mare  by  the  bridle  and  helped  the  Count- 
;s  to  mount. 

c  Give  your  whole  mind  to  holding  on  tight/  he  said, c  to 
sing  the  whip,  and  steering  clear  of  the  branches  that  will 
ash  you  across  the  face.’ 

For  half  an  hour  he  led  her  at  full  gallop ;  they  turned  and 
visted  and  went  round  and  about  to  cut  off  the  trail  across 
le  glades,  till  they  reached  a  point  where  he  stopped. 

4 1  have  no  idea  where  I  am/  said  the  Countess,  looking 
>out  her,  4  though  I  know  the  forest  as  well  as  you  do.’ 

4  We  are  right  in  the  middle  of  it/  he  answered.  4  There 
e  two  gendarmes  after  us,  but  we  are  safe.’ 

The  picturesque  spot  to  which  the  bailiff  brought  Lau- 
:nce  was  to  play  such  a  momentous  part  in  the  lives  of 
le  principal  characters  in  the  story  (Michu  included),  that 
becomes  the  chronicler’s  duty  to  describe  it.  And  not 
lly  so,  the  place  became  famous  in  the  judicial  calendar 
:  the  Empire,  as  shall  be  shown. 

The  Forest  of  Nodesme  once  belonged  to  the  monas- 
ry  of  Notre  Dame.  That  monastery,  seized,  sacked,  and 
unolished,  disappeared  entirely;  neither  monks  nor  lands 
;mained.  The  coveted  forest  became  a  part  of  the  lands 
:  the  counts  of  Champagne,  who  afterwards  pledged  it 
id  allowed  it  to  be  sold.  In  the  course  of  six  hundred 
*ars,  nature  covered  the  ruins  over  with  her  luxuriant 
antle  of  lusty  green,  hiding  them  so  effectually  that  noth- 
g  but  a  tolerably  low  mound  overshaded  by  tall  forest  trees 
arked  the  spot  where  one  of  the  finest  of  old  convents  once 
id  stood.  A  dense  thicket  surrounded  the  place,  and  since 
794  it  had  pleased  Michu  to  plant  thorny  acacias  among 
le  bushes.  A  pool  below  the  mound  indicated  a  hidden 
>ring  which  doubtless  determined  the  site  of  the  convent 
former  times.  Nobody  but  the  owner  of  the  title-deeds 
*  the  Forest  of  Nodesme  could  have  traced  the  etymology 
7  a  world  eight  centuries  old,  or  discovered  that  there  had 
;en  a  monastery  in  the  woods  in  days  of  yore. 


8o  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Just  as  the  first  mutterings  of  the  thunder  of  revolutior 
were  heard,  a  lawsuit  obliged  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse  tc 
refer  to  his  title-deeds.  These  particulars  chanced  to  attrac 
his  attention,  and  he  began  a  search  for  the  site  of  the  mon¬ 
astery.  It  is  easy  enough  to  imagine  the  thought  he  mus 
have  had  in  his  mind.  The  head  keeper,  knowing  the  for 
est  well,  assisted  his  master  in  the  quest ;  and  it  was  Michu5 
woodcraft  which  discovered  the  spot.  He  saw  that  then 
were  five  principal  roadways,  some  of  them  almost  undis 
tinguishable  in  the  forest ;  and  he  noticed  that  they  all  cor 
verged  at  this  point,  near  the  mound  beside  the  pool.  I 
former  times  they  must  have  led  from  the  monastery  t 
Troyes,  to  the  valley  of  Arcis,  the  valley  of  Cinq-Cygne 
and  to  Bar-sur-Aube.  The  Marquis  meant  to  make  exca 
vations  in  the  mound,  but  he  could  not  employ  natives  o 
the  district  on  the  work,  and  the  pressure  of  circumstance 
compelled  him  to  give  up  the  idea.  But  the  idea  that  th 
mound  contained  hidden  treasure  or  the  foundations  o 
the  abbey,  remained  in  Michu’s  mind,  and  he  carried  o 
the  archaeological  investigations  by  himself.  Just  at  the  lev* 
of  the  pool,  between  two  trees  at  the  foot  of  the  one  bit  o 
steep  bank,  he  found  that  the  ground  rang  hollow  under  foo 
Then  one  clear  night  he  brought  a  pickaxe  and  worked  ti 
he  laid  bare  an  opening  into  a  cellar,  and  several  stor 
steps. 

The  pool,  only  three  feet  deep  at  the  most,  was  shape 
like  a  spade,  with  the  handle  issuing  from  the  mound, 
spring  apparently  rose  in  the  artificial  rock  of  masonr 
filtered  away  out  of  sight,  and  was  lost  in  the  vast  fores 
All  the  neglected  wood  paths,  all  the  tracks  of  anciei 
roads  and  forest  rides  led  to  this  marshy  spot  with  its  frin£ 
of  waterside  trees,  its  ashes,  willows,  and  alders.  T! 
water  seemed  to  be  stagnant,  but  it  was  always  runnir1 
under  the  broad-leaved  weeds  and  cresses ;  for  the  who 
green  surface  of  the  pool  was  scarcely  distinguishable  fro 
its  margin  of  thick,  delicate  grasses.  So  lonely  was  it  th 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 


81 


o  animal  save  the  wild  creatures  came  to  feed  there, 
"he  mound  was  difficult  of  access ;  keepers  and  sportsmen 
fere  fully  persuaded  that  nothing  could  exist  below  the 
larsh ;  so  they  never  visited,  searched,  or  sounded  that  part 
f  the  forest  where  the  tallest  timber  grew  under  Michu’s 
upervision  till  its  turn  should  come  to  be  cut  down. 

At  the  back  of  this  cellar  there  was  a  clean,  dry,  and 
/holesome  vaulted  cell,  built  of  freestone,  something  after 
be  manner  of  that  kind  of  conventual  dungeon  known  as 
n  in  pace .  The  spring  seemed  to  have  been  respected  in 
he  general  demolition,  for  the  cistern  wall,  built  of  brick 
nd  mortar  such  as  the  Romans  used,  was  apparently  of 
nmense  thickness ;  to  which  cause  probably  the  whole- 
omeness  of  the  place  and  the  good  condition  of  the  steps 
/ere  due. 

Michu  covered  the  mouth  of  the  retreat  with  huge 
tones,  and  the  better  to  keep  the  secret  to  himself,  he 
nade  it  a  rule  never  to  approach  the  place  by  way  of  the 
ool,  but  to  climb  the  wooded  mound  and  drop  down  from 
bove. 

When  the  two  fugitives  reached  the  spot  the  century- 
id  trees  that  grew  on  the  mound  were  tipped  with 
right  silver  by  the  moonlight;  it  played  over  the  stately 
lusters  among  the  glades  that  met  about  the  spot,  and 
he  broad  or  narrow  wedges  of  the  woodland  which  ended 
ometimes  in  a  clump,  sometimes  in  a  single  tree.  Your 
yes  were  drawn  irresistibly  to  the  glimpses  of  the  distance 
own  some  curving  path,  by  some  black  wall  of  leaves 
i  shadow,  or  along  a  sublime,  far-reaching  vista  of  forest 
rees.  The  light,  filtering  down  through  the  branches 
bout  the  meeting  of  the  ways,  found  the  still  water  out  of 
ight  under  the  cresses  and  lily  leaves,  and  lit  a  diamond 
park  here  and  there.  The  croaking  of  the  frogs  was  the 
nly  sound  that  troubled  the  deep  silence  of  this  fair  nook 
f  forest,  where  the  wild  scents  stirred  thoughts  of  freedom 
i  the  soul. 


F 


82  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  Are  we  really  safe  ?  ’  the  Countess  asked  Michu. 

4  Yes,  Mademoiselle.  But  we  have  each  of  us  some¬ 
thing  to  do.  Tie  up  the  horses  to  the  trees  on  the  top  of 
the  bank,  and  muzzle  them  both,’  he  added,  holding  oui 
his  neck  handkerchief ;  4  they  are  intelligent  creatures  ;  the) 
will  understand  and  keep  quiet.  When  that  is  done  jump 
down  off  the  bank  to  the  water’s  edge ;  take  care  not  tc 
catch  your  habit  against  anything,  and  you  will  find  me 
below.’ 

While  the  Countess  hid  the  horses,  and  tied  them  up 
and  fastened  the  handkerchiefs  over  their  nostrils,  Michi 
cleared  away  the  stones  from  the  opening  into  the  cellar 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  thought  that  she  knew  the 
forest  thoroughly ;  she  was  amazed  to  the  last  degree  tc 
find  herself  under  the  vaulted  roof.  Michu  put  back  the 
stones  as  skilfully  as  any  mason.  He  had  scarcely  finished 
before  the  trampling  of  horse  hoofs  and  the  voices  of  the 
gendarmes  rang  through  the  still  night  air;  nevertheless1 
he  struck  a  light  with  much  composure,  kindled  a  bit  of 
pine  torch,  led  the  way  into  the  in  pace ,  where  he  found  a i 
end  of  candle  left  behind  after  an  exploring  expedition 
The  iron  door  he  himself  had  put  into  repair;  thougl 
eaten  through  with  rust  in  several  places  it  was  nearly  ai 
inch  thick  and  was  bolted  on  the  outside.  An  iron  rinj 
still  hung  from  the  wall,  above  the  stone  bench  on  whicl 
the  Countess  de  Cinq-Cygne  sank  down,  exhausted. 

4  We  have  a  parlour  to  talk  in,’  said  Michu.  4  Th 
gendarmes  may  go  round  and  about  as  much  as  they  like 
if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  they  will  only  take  th 
horses.’ 

4  Take  our  horses,’  repeated  Laurence  de  Cinq-Cygne 
4  If  they  do,  it  might  be  the  death  of  my  cousim 
and  the  d’Hauteserres  !  .  .  .  Let  us  see  now,  what  d 
you  know  ?  ’ 

Michu  repeated  the  scrap  of  Malin’s  conversation  wit 
Grevin. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  83 

4  They  are  on  their  way  to  Paris  now  !  They  are  to 
each  Paris  this  morning  !  ’  said  the  Countess  when  he 
nded. 

4  It  is  all  over  with  them  !  ’  exclaimed  Michu.  c  There 
vdll  be  men  at  the  barriers  to  watch  every  one  who  comes 
a  or  out  of  Paris,  you  may  be  sure.  It  is  in  every  way  to 
Kalin’s  interest  to  allow  my  masters  to  compromise  them- 
elves  hopelessly,  so  as  to  get  rid  of  them.’ 

4  And  I  know  nothing  of  the  general  scheme  !  9  cried 
^aurence.  c  How  can  I  send  warning  to  Georges  and 
tiviere  and  Moreau  ?  Where  are  they  ?  In  short,  let  us 
hink  simply  of  my  cousins  and  the  d’Hauteserres,  and  over- 
ake  them,  cost  what  it  may.’ 

4  Signalled  messages  travel  faster  than  the  best  horse,’  said 
Vlichu, c  and  of  all  the  nobles  deep  in  this  plot,  your  cousins 
vill  be  most  thoroughly  hunted  down.  If  I  can  overtake 
hem,  they  must  be  hidden  here ;  we  will  keep  them  here  till 
he  affair  is  over.  Their  poor  father  perhaps  had  a  vision  of 
his  when  he  set  me  on  the  track  of  the  hiding-place ;  he  had 
1  presentiment  that  his  sons  would  fly  to  it  in  danger.’ 

c  My  mare  was  bred  in  the  Comte  d’ Artois’s  stables, 
-[er  sire  was  his  best  English  thoroughbred,  but  I  have 
idden  her  between  eighty  and  ninety  miles  to-day ;  she 
would  drop  down  dead  on  the  road.’ 

4  I  have  a  good  horse,’  replied  Michu.  c  If  you  have 
•idden  between  eighty  and  ninety  miles,  I  should  not  have 
nuch  more  than  forty  to  ride.’ 

4  Fifty-five,’  said  she  ;  c  they  were  to  be  on  their  way  by 
ive  o’clock.  You  will  find  them  above  Lagny  at  Coupvrai. 
They  are  to  leave  Coupvrai  at  dawn,  disguised  as  boat- 
nen  ;  they  mean  to  enter  Paris  by  boat.  Here  is  the  one 
:oken  that  they  will  believe,’  she  continued,  giving  the 
broken  half  of  her  mother’s  wedding-ring.  c  I  gave  them 
:he  other  half.  The  keeper  at  Coupvrai  is  the  father  of 
Dne  of  the  men  they  have  with  them  ;  he  found  them  a 
hiding-place  in  a  charcoal-burner’s  hut  in  the  woods. 


84  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

There  are  eight  in  all.  My  cousins  have  four  men  with 
them  beside  the  MM.  d’Hautserre.’ 

c  Nobody  will  run  after  the  men,  Mademoiselle ;  let  us 
look  after  the  MM.  de  Simeuse,  and  leave  the  rest  to  do 
as  they  like  about  getting  away.  Is  it  not  enough  to  give 
a  call  of  44  Heads,  oh  ”  ? ’ 

c  Leave  the  d’Hauteserres  ?  Never!’  she  said.  4  They 
must  all  escape  or  all  die  together.’ 

c  Little  country  squires  ?  ’  objected  Michu. 

4  They  are  only  squires,  I  know,’  she  said;  4  but  they 
are  connected  with  the  Cinq-Cygnes  and  the  Simeuses. 
So  bring  back  my  cousins  and  the  d’Hauteserres,  and  take 
counsel  with  them  as  to  the  best  way  of  reaching  the  forest 
here.’ 

4  There  are  the  gendarmes!  Do  you  hear  ?  They  are 
having  a  consultation.’ 

4  After  all,  you  have  been  lucky  twice  already  to-night. 
Go,  bring  them  back,  and  hide  them  here  in  this  hole. 
They  will  be  quite  safe.  And  I  can  be  of  no  use  what¬ 
ever  to  you,’  she  cried  passionately.  4  I  should  be  a  beacon 
to  give  light  to  their  enemies.  The  police  will  never 
think  that  they  could  come  back  to  the  forest  when  they 
see  me  stay  quietly  at  home.  And  now  the  whole  ques¬ 
tion  is  this,’  she  continued,  4  how  to  find  five  good  horsey 
that  will  bring  them  from  Lagny  to  our  forest  in  six  hours  ;S 
five  horses  to  be  left  dead  in  a  thicket.’ 

c  And  money?’  asked  Michu.  He  had  been  thinking 
intently  as  he  listened. 

4 1  gave  my  cousins  a  hundred  louis,  just  now.’ 

c  I  will  answer  for  their  lives,’  Michu  exclaimed.  4  When 
once  they  are  hidden  you  must  give  up  any  attempt  to  see 
them.  My  wife  or  my  boy  will  take  food  to  them  twice  a 
week.  But  I  cannot  answer  for  my  own  life;  so  I  must 
tell  you,  Mademoiselle,  in  case  anything  should  happen, 
that  in  the  cross-beam  in  the  garret  roof  there  is  a  hole 
bored  by  an  auger,  and  stopped  with  a  wooden  plug.  Inside 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  85 

here  is  a  plan  of  a  bit  of  the  forest.  All  the  trees  marked 
with  a  red  dot  on  the  plan,  bear  a  black  mark  on  them  on  the 
ground,  and  each  one  of  those  trees  is  a  sign-post.  Under 
he  third  old  oak  from  each  of  the  sign-post  trees,  two  feet 
iway  from  the  trunk,  and  seven  feet  underground,  there  lies 
i  tin  canister  containing  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  gold. 
Those  eleven  trees,  for  there  are  only  eleven  of  them,  are 
ill  the  fortune  left  to  the  Simeuses  now  that  Gondreville 
las  been  taken  from  them/ 

4  It  will  take  a  century  for  the  noblesse  to  recover  from 
:he  blows  dealt  to  them,’  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  said 
dowly. 

4  Is  there  a  password  ?  ’  Michu  asked. 

4  France  and  Charles  for  the  men,  and  Laurence  and  Louis 
ror  the  d’Hauteserres  and  Simeuses.  O,  God  !  to  have 
seen  them  again  for  the  first  time  after  eleven  years,  and  to 
know  that  they  are  in  danger  of  death  to-day,  and  what  a 
death  !  Michu,’  she  said,  with  a  melancholy  expression  in 
her  face,  c  be  as  careful  during  these  next  fifteen  hours  as 
pou  have  been  great  and  devoted  all  through  the  twelve 
years.  If  anything  should  happen  to  my  cousins,  I 
should  die.  No,  not  until  I  had  killed  Bonaparte,’  she 
added. 

4  There  will  be  two  of  us  for  that,’  he  said,  c  on  the  day 
when  all  is  lost.’ 

Laurence  grasped  Michu’s  rough  hand  in  hers,  and  shook 
it  in  the  English  fashion.  Michu  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  midnight. 

4  Let  us  get  out  at  all  costs,’  he  said.  4  The  gendarme 
that  tries  to  stop  me  had  better  look  out!  And  you, 
Madame  la  Comtesse,  would  it  not  be  better  for  you  to  go 
back  to  the  chateau  at  full  gallop  ?  They  are  there  ;  keep 
them  in  play.’ 

Michu  unstopped  the  entrance,  and  heard  nothing ;  he 
flung  himself  flat  on  the  ground  to  listen,  and  then  rose 
suddenly  to  his  feet. 


86  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

‘They  are  on  the  outskirts  of  the  forest  near  Troyes,^ 
he  said ;  ‘  I  will  give  them  leg-bail.’ 

He  helped  the  Countess  to  climb  out,  replaced  the  heap 
of  stones.  When  he  had  finished,  he  heard  Laurence’s 
sweet  voice  calling  to  him ;  she  wished  to  see  him  moun* 
first.  There  were  tears  in  the  rough  keeper’s  eyes  as  h^ 
exchanged  a  last  glance  with  his  young  mistress,  but 
Laurence  was  dry  eyed. 

c  Let  us  keep  them  in  play;  he  is  right,’  she  said  to  her¬ 
self  when  the  last  sounds  had  died  away.  And  she  set 
out  at  a  gallop  for  Cinq-Cygne. 

When  Madame  d’Hauteserre  knew  that  her  sons’  lives 
were  in  danger,  the  very  violence  of  the  anguish  which 
stunned  her  brought  her  back  to  her  senses  and  gave  hei 
strength.  She  could  not  believe  that  the  Revolution  was 
over ;  she  had  had  experience  of  the  summary  justice  dealt 
in  times  past ;  and  a  dreadful  curiosity  drew  her  down  to 
the  salon.  The  sight  that  met  her  eyes  was  in  truth 
worthy  of  a  painter  of  genre. 

The  cure  was  still  sitting  at  the  card-table,  playing 
mechanically  with  the  counters,  while  he  kept  a  furtive 
watch  on  Peyrade  and  Corentin,  who  stood  in  the  chimney 
corner  talking  together  with  lowered  voices.  Several  times 
Corentin’s  keen  eyes  had  happened  to  meet  the  cure’s  no 
less  keen  glances,  but  both  of  them  promptly  looked  away, 
much  as  two  equally  matched  fencers  might  fall  back  on 
guard  after  crossing  swords. 

Old  d’Hauteserre,  planted  like  a  heron  on  his  two  feet, 
stood  beside  Goulard,  the  big  and  burly  miser,  whose  atti¬ 
tude  assumed  in  his  first  bewilderment  was  still  unchanged. 
As  for  the  mayor,  though  he  dressed  like  a  master  he 
always  looked  like  a  servant.  Both  men  stared  stupidly 
at  the  gendarmes,  on  either  side  of  Gothard.  The  boy 
was  still  crying;  his  hands  had  been  tied  in  such  a  rigor¬ 
ous  fashion  that  they  were  purple  and  swollen.  Catherine 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  87 

naintained  her  position ;  she  was  quite  simple  and  artless 
nd  quite  inscrutable.  The  constable,  who  according  to 
Corentin  had  made  a  silly  blunder  by  arresting  these  good 
ittle  souls,  was  in  two  minds  whether  he  ought  to  stay  or 
jo,  so  he  stood  absorbed  in  thought  in  the  middle  of  the 
00m,  with  his  hand  on  his  sabre  hilt  and  his  eyes  on  the 
nen  from  Paris.  The  bewildered  Durieus  and  the  group 
>f  servants  made  an  admirable  picture  of  anxiety.  If  it 
lad  not  been  for  Gothard’s  sobbing  you  could  have  heard 
1  pin  drop.  * 

All  faces  were  turned  towards  the  door  when  it  opened 
ind  the  mother  appeared,  white  and  terror-stricken,  almost 
carried  by  Mademoiselle  Goujet,  whose  eyes  were  red 
Mth  weeping.  The  two  agents  of  police  hoped  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  feared  to  see  Laurence  enter  with  them. 
The  spontaneous  movement  of  the  family,  the  servants 
ncluded,  might  have  been  caused  by  some  mechanical 
contrivance  that  sets  a  row  of  wooden  puppets  making  one 
single  gesture  or  blinking  their  eyes  with  one  accord. 

Madame  d’Hauteserre  made  three  hasty  paces  towards 
Corentin  and  cried  out,  in  a  broken  but  excited  voice :  — 

‘  For  pity’s  sake,  Monsieur,  of  what  are  my  sons  accused  ? 
And  do  you  think  that  they  can  be  here  ?  ’ 

The  cure,  watching  the  old  lady,  lowered  his  eyes.  1  She 
will  make  a  mess  of  it,’  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself. 

‘  My  duty  and  the  mission  which  I  am  fulfilling  will  not 
permit  me  to  tell  you  that,’  replied  Corentin,  with  satirical 
urbanity. 

The  young  fop’s  odious  affability  made  his  refusal  even 
more  hopelessly  emphatic;  the  old  mother  seemed  to  be 
turned  to  stone.  She  sank  down  into  an  easy-chair  beside 
the  Abbe  Goujet,  clasped  her  hands,  and  put  up  a  prayer. 

‘  Where  did  you  find  that  cry-baby  ?  ’  inquired  Corentin, 
indicating  Laurence’s  little  squire  to  the  constable. 

<  On  the  road  to  the  farm  along  by  the  park  walls ;  the 
rogue  was  making  for  the  wood  at  Closeaux.’ 


88  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  And  the  girl  ? 9 

c  She  ?  It  was  Olivier  that  nabbed  her/ 

c  Where  was  she  going  ? 9 

‘Towards  Gondreville/ 

4  One  going  one  way,  and  the  other,  another  ? 9 

4  Yes,’  said  the  gendarme. 

4  He  is  the  Citoyenne  Cinq-Cygne’s  page,  and  the 
girl  is  her  maid,  I  think,’  said  Corentin,  addressing  the 
mayor. 

4  Yes,9  answered  Goulard. 

Corentin  and  Peyrade  held  a  brief,  whispered  conference 
on  this,  and  the  latter  went  out  with  the  constable.  The 
Arcis  constable  came  in,  and  spoke  to  Corentin  in  a  low 
voice. 

4 1  know  the  premises  well,9  he  said.  4 1  have  made 
a  thorough  search  through  the  outbuildings ;  there  is 
nobody  there  unless  the  young  fellows  are  buried  under¬ 
ground.  We  have  sounded  all  the  walls  and  floors  with 
our  gun-stocks.9 

Peyrade  came  in,  beckoned  Corentin  out  of  the  room, 
took  him  to  see  the  gap  in  the  fosse,  and  pointed  out  the 
hollow  way  beyond. 

4  We  have  found  out  the  dodge,9  said  he. 

4  And  I’ll  tell  you  what  it  was,9  said  Corentin.  4  That 
little  jackanapes  and  the  girl  put  those  stupid  idiots  of 
gendarmes  on  the  wrong  scent,  so  that  the  game  got  clear 
away.9 

4  We  shall  not  know  how  things  really  are  before  day¬ 
light,9  returned  Peyrade.  4  The  lane  is  damp.  I  have 
posted  a  couple  of  gendarmes  at  top  and  bottom,  to  stop  the 
way ;  and  as  soon  as  we  can  see,  we  will  find  out  who  it 
was  that  went  that  way  by  the  footprints.9 

4  There  is  the  mark  of  a  horseshoe  here,9  said  Corentin. 

4  Let  us  go  round  to  the  stables.9 

4  How  many  horses  are  there  here  ? 9  demanded  Peyrade, 
when  they  returned  to  the  salon. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  89 

4  Come,  come,  master  mayor,  you  know ;  answer ! ’ 
ried  Corentin,  seeing  that  that  functionary  hesitated. 

4  Why,  there  is  the  Countess’s  mare,  there  is  Gothard’s 
orse,  and  M.  d’Hauteserre’s - 5 

4  We  only  saw  one  in  the  stable,’  remarked  Peyrade. 

4  Mademoiselle  has  gone  out,’  said  Durieu. 

4  Does  your  ward  often  go  out  at  night  in  this  way  ?  ’ 
sked  the  dissolute  Peyrade. 

4  Very  frequently,’  the  old  gentleman  answered  simply, 
as  M.  le  Maire  can  testify.’ 

4  She  has  her  crotchets,  as  all  the  world  knows,’  put  in 
Catherine.  4  She  looked  out  at  the  sky  before  she  went  to 
•ed ;  she  saw  your  bayonets  shining  in  the  distance,  I 
xpect,  and  that  puzzled  her.  She  told  me  when  she  went 
»ut  that  she  wanted  to  know  if  there  was  another  new 
devolution  going  on.’ 

4  When  did  she  go  out  ?  ’  asked  Peyrade. 

4  When  she  saw  your  guns.’ 

4  And  which  way  did  she  go  ?  ’ 

4 1  do  not  know.’ 

4  And  the  other  horse  ?  ’  suggested  Corentin. 

4  The  g-g-gendarmes  t-t-took  him  awa-wa-way  from 
ne,’  sobbed  little  Gothard. 

4  Then  where  were  you  going  ?  ’  asked  a  gendarme. 

4 1  wa-wa-was  g-going  after  m-my  mistress  to  the  f-f-f- 
arm  !  ’ 

The  gendarme  looked  up  as  if  he  expected  an  order ;  but 
his  kind  of  talk  was  so  natural  yet  so  artful,  so  profoundly 
nnocent  yet  so  shrewd,  that  again  the  men  from  Paris 
ooked  at  one  another  as  if  to  repeat  Peyrade’s  dictum, 
These  are  no  fools.’ 

The  master  of  the  house  apparently  had  not  wit  enough 
o  understand  a  gibe.  The  mayor  was  plainly  a  dolt. 
The  mother,  driven  out  of  her  maternal  wits,  was  putting 
lopelessly  silly  questions  to  agents  of  police.  All  these 
)eople  had  really  been  surprised  in  their  sleep.  Corentin 


90  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

with  all  these  little  facts  before  him,  weighed  the  characters 
of  these  diverse  personages,  and  at  once  came  to  the  con¬ 
clusion  that  his  one  real  antagonist  was  Mademoiselle  de 
Cinq-Cygne. 

The  detective,  however  clever  he  may  be,  labours  under 
a  great  many  disadvantages.  Not  only  is  he  obliged  to 
find  out  all  that  the  conspirator  knows  already,  but  he  is 
further  bound  to  invent  hypotheses  by  the  hundred  until 
he  chances  upon  the  right  one.  A  conspirator  is  always 
thinking  of  his  safety,  while  the  detective  is  only  on  the 
alert  at  certain  times.  If  it  were  not  for  traitors  con¬ 
spiracy  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world.  A 
conspirator  has  more  ingenuity  in  his  single  head  than 
the  whole  body  of  detectives  with  all  their  immense  re¬ 
sources  in  action.  Corentin  and  Peyrade  felt  that  they 
were  pulled  up,  mentally  speaking.  They  had  been  driven, 
as  it  were,  to  pick  a  lock  instead  of  finding  an  open  door, 
and  now  discovered  that  several  persons  on  the  other  side 
were  silently  leaning  all  their  weight  against  it.  Corentin 
and  Peyrade  saw  that  some  one  had  guessed  their  plans 
and  outwitted  them ;  but  who  this  was  they  did  not 
know. 

cIf  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre  spent  the 
night  here,’  the  Arcis  constable  said  in  a  low  voice,  c  I  will 
be  bound  that  they  either  slept  in  the  beds  belonging  to 
their  father  and  mother,  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  and 
the  servants,  or  else  they  tramped  up  and  down  in  the  park 
all  night,  for  there  is  not  the  slightest  sign  to  show  that 
they  have  been  here.’ 

c  Then  who  can  have  given  them  warning  ? 9  Corentin 
asked  turning  to  Peyrade.  c  Nobody  knows  anything  yet, 
except  the  First  Consul  and  Fouche,  the  Prefect  of  Police, 
the  Ministers,  and  Malin.’ 

cWe  will  leave  some  sheep  in  the  neighbourhood,’ 
whispered  Peyrade. 

c  And  that  so  much  the  better  because  your  sheep  will 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  91 

e  in  Champagne,’ 1  said  the  cure;  he  could  not  help  smiling 
/hen  he  heard  that  word  sheep ,  and  guessed  all  that  was 
leant  by  it. 

4  Dear  me,’  thought  Corentin,  smiling  back  at  the  cure, 
there  is  one  intelligent  man  here.  I  may  arrive  at  an 
nderstanding  with  him  ;  I  will  have  a  try.’ 

But  the  mayor  meant  at  all  events  to  give  some  proof  of 
iis  zeal  for  the  First  Consul;  he  addressed  himself  to 
"ouche’s  agents. 

4  Gentlemen - ’ 

4 Say  citizens;  the  Republic  is  still  in  existence,’  sug- 
;ested  Corentin,  with  a  satirical  smile  at  the  cure. 

4  Citizens,’  began  the  mayor,  4  just  as  I  came  into  this 
00m  and  before  I  could  open  my  mouth,  Catherine  came 
lying  in  for  her  mistress’s  hat  and  gloves  and  riding-whip.’ 

A  low  murmur  of  disgust  came  from  the  depths  of  every 
:hest  save  Gothard’s.  All  eyes,  save  the  eyes  of  the  police 
igents,  flashed  fire  and  threatenings  at  Goulard  the  informer. 

c  Good  Citizen  Mayor,’  said  Peyrade,  4  we  see  through 
his  perfectly  well.  Somebody  gave  the  Citizeness  Cinq- 
Cygne  a  very  timely  warning,’  he  added,  eyeing  Corentin 
vith  evident  distrust. 

4  Constable,  put  handcuffs  on  the  little  chap,’  said  Cor- 
mtin,  4  and  shut  him  up  alone.  Lock  up  this  little  girl, 
:oo,’  he  added,  pointing  to  Catherine.  — 4  You  will  super- 
ntend  the  search  of  the  papers,  now,’  he  continued,  turning 
:o  Peyrade.  He  lowered  his  voice  to  say  a  few  words,  and 
:hen  added  aloud.  4  Search  through  them  all,  spare  nothing. 
—  M.  l’Abbe,’  he  continued,  4  I  have  an  important  com- 
nunication  to  make.’  He  led  the  way  into  the  garden. 

4  M.  l’Abbe,  you  seem  to  me  to  have  all  the  wit  of  a 
Dishop,  and  —  nobody  can  overhear  us  —  you  will  under- 

1  An  allusion  to  the  saying,  Quatre-vingt-dix-neuf  moutom  et  un  Champenois 
font  cent  betes. 

For  the  French  word  mouton  in  its  sense  of  police  spy,  no  English  equivalent 
'  ncists.  — Tr. 


92  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

stand  me,  my  one  hope  is  in  you.  Here  are  two  familie 
brought  by  some  foolish  blunder  to  the  brink  of  a  precipice 
from  which  no  one  comes  back  if  he  once  falls  over.  The 
MM.  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre  have  been  betrayed  b\ 
one  of  the  vile  informers  insinuated  into  every  plot  by  the 
Government,  so  as  to  make  sure  of  the  methods  employed 
the  people  involved  in  it,  and  their  object.  Do  not  con 
fuse  me  with  the  wretch,  my  companion  ;  he  is  a  mere 
detective,  while  I  have  the  last  word  of  the  consular  cabi¬ 
net  to  which  I  am  very  honourably  attached.  It  is  no 
desired  that  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  should  be  ruined  ;  Malir 
might  like  to  see  them  shot,  but  the  First  Consul  wishe; 
to  stop  them  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice  (if  they  are  here 
that  is,  and  if  they  have  no  criminal  designs),  for  he  has  2 
liking  for  a  good  soldier.  My  fellow  agent  has  all  the 
power;  I,  in  appearance,  am  nobody,  but  I  know  how  the 
land  lies.  Malin  has  given  him  a  hint,  has  promised  to  use 
his  influence,  no  doubt,  to  get  him  a  place  and  money  as 
well,  very  likely,  if  he  can  find  the  two  Simeuses  and  give 
them  up.  The  First  Consul  is  a  really  great  man ;  he  has 
no  sympathy  with  covetousness  and  greed. 

c  I  have  not  the  least  wish  to  know  whether  the  young 
men  are  here/  continued  Corentin,  in  reply  to  a  gesture 
from  the  cure,  c  but  there  is  only  one  way  of  saving  them 
You  know  the  law  of  6th  of  Floreal,  year  X  ?  It  offers 
an  amnesty  to  all  emigres  still  resident  abroad,  on  condition 
that  they  return  before  the  1st  Vendemiaire  of  the  year  XL 
which  is  to  say,  before  the  September  of  last  year.  But  as 
the  MM.  de  Simeuse  and  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre  likewise 
have  held  commands  in  the  Army  of  Conde,  they  are 
among  the  exceptions  made  by  that  same  law.  So  their] 
presence  in  France  is  a  criminal  offence;  it  will  be  taken, 
under  the  circumstances,  as  a  sufficient  proof  of  their  com-i 
plicity  in  a  detestable  plot.  The  First  Consul  has  felt  the 
weak  point  of  the  exception  made  by  the  law  of  the  6th 
Floreal ;  he  sees  that  it  makes  irreconcilable  enemies  for 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  93 

!  s  Government ;  he  wishes  it  to  be  made  known  to  the 
[  [M.  de  Simeuse,  that  no  steps  will  be  taken  against  them, 
they  address  a  petition  to  the  proper  quarter,  stating 
;  iat  they  have  come  back  to  France  with  a  view  to  making 
|  ieir  submission  to  the  laws,  and  promising  to  take  the  oath 
,  the  Constitution.  You  can  understand  that  this  docu- 
ent  must  be  in  his  hands  before  they  are  arrested ;  it 
lould  be  dated  a  few  days  back ;  I  can  be  the  bearer.  .  . 

‘  I  do  not  ask  you  where  the  young  men  are,’  he  went 
i,  as  the  cure  shook  his  head  again.  ‘  Unfortunately  we 
e  only  too  sure  to  find  them.  The  forest  is  patrolled,  the 
t  rtes  of  Paris  are  watched,  so  is  the  frontier.  Attend 
irefully  to  this  that  I  am  about  to  say  !  If  the  gentlemen 
e  anywhere  between  the  forest  and  Paris,  they  will  be 
iken.  If  they  are  at  Paris,  they  will  be  found  there.  If 
ley  turn  back,  the  unfortunates  will  be  arrested.  The 
irst  Consul  is  well  disposed  towards  ci-devant s,  and  cannot 
ear  Republicans ;  and  this  is  quite  natural.  If  he  wants 
throne  he  is  bound  to  murder  liberty  first.  This  between 
urselves.  Now,  see  here  !  I  will  wait  till  to-morrow ; 

will  be  blind;  but  be  on  your  guard  with  the  agent, 
’hat  damned  Provencal  is  the  devil’s  own  lackey ;  he  has 
ouche’s  instructions  just  as  I  have  mine  from  the  First 
lonsul.’ 

‘If  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  are  here,’  said  the  cure,  ‘I 
'ould  give  ten  pints  of  my  blood  and  an  arm  to  save 
lem ;  but,  if  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  is  in  their 
onfidence,  not  the  slightest  word  has  escaped  her,  and  she 
as  not  done  me  the  honour  to  consult  me.  I  swear  it  by 
ly  salvation.  At  this  moment  I  am  profoundly  glad  that 
ie  has  kept  her  own  counsel,  always  supposing  that  she 
ad  any  counsel  to  keep.  We  were  playing  a  game  of 
oston  to-night,  as  usual;  the  house  was  perfectly  quiet 
ntil  half-past  ten ;  we  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything.  A 
hild  cannot  come  into  this  lonely  valley  but  everybody 
j;es  and  knows  it,  and  for  the  last  fortnight  not  a  single 


94  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

stranger  has  been  here.  Now  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre 
and  de  Simeuse  make  a  party  of  four  by  themselves.  The 
old  gentleman  and  his  wife  have  submitted  to  the  Govern¬ 
ment  ;  they  have  made  every  imaginable  effort  to  bring 
their  sons  home ;  they  wrote  to  them  only  yesterday.  So^ 
upon  my  soul  and  conscience,  it  took  your  descent  upon  us 
here  to  shake  my  firm  belief  that  they  are  in  Germany. 
Between  ourselves,  the  young  Countess  is  the  only  person 
in  the  house  who  fails  to  do  justice  to  the  eminent  merits 
of  M.  le  Premier  Consul/ 

c Sly  dog!’  thought  Corentin.  Aloud  he  said,  cIf  the 
young  men  are  taken  and  shot,  it  will  only  be  what  they 
deserve.  I  wash  my  hands  of  it  now.’ 

He  had  walked  with  the  abbe  to  an  open  space;  the 
moon  was  shining  down  full  upon  them,  and  as  he  uttered 
those  fatal  words,  he  looked  up  sharply,  full  in  his  com¬ 
panion’s  face.  The  abbe  was  deeply  distressed ;  but  he 
seemed  both  surprised  and  wholly  ignorant. 

c  Just  remember,  M.  l’Abbe,’  Corentin  went  on,  cthat 
they  are  doubly  criminal  in  the  eyes  of  subordinates, 
because  they  have  a  right  to  Gondreville.  In  fact,  I  want 
them  to  pray  to  Providence,  and  not  to  the  saints.’ 
c  Then  there  is  a  plot  ?  ’  the  cure  asked  naively. 
c  A  base,  hateful,  cowardly  plot,  so  contrary  to  the 
generous  spirit  of  the  nation  that  it  will  meet  with  repro¬ 
bation  on  all  sides,’  replied  Corentin. 

c  Oh,  well !  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  is  incapable 
of  baseness,’  exclaimed  the  cure. 

CM.  l’Abbe,’  returned  Corentin,  c  look  here.  We  have 
(this  is  still  between  you  and  me),  we  have  unmistakable 
proof  of  her  complicity,  but  not  enough  as  yet  to  serve  as 
evidence  in  a  court  of  law.  She  takes  flight  as  soon  as  we 
come.  .  .  And  yet,  I  had  sent  the  mayor  to  you.’ 

c  Yes,  but  you  followed  rather  close  upon  the  mayor’s 
heels  for  a  man  that  had  it  so  much  on  his  mind  to  save 
them,’  remarked  the  abbe. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  95 

The  two  men  looked  one  another  in  the  eyes.  There 
yas  no  more  to  be  said.  Both  were  deeply  learned  anato- 
nists  of  human  thought;  a  simple  inflexion  of  the  voice, 
n  expression,  a  word  was  enough ;  they  could  guess  the 
:ind  of  man  with  whom  they  had  to  do,  just  as  a  savage 
mows  his  enemies  by  tokens  invisible  to  European  eyes. 

4  I  thought  I  should  get  something  out  of  him,’  thought 
Corentin,  c  and  he  has  found  me  out.’ 

4  Oh,  the  scoundrel ! ’  the  cure  said  to  himself. 

The  old  church  clock  struck  twelve  as  Corentin  and  the 
:ure  came  back  to  the  drawing-room.  There  was  a  sound 
is  of  opening  and  shutting  chamber  doors  and  cupboards. 
The  gendarmes  were  pulling  the  beds  to  pieces.  Peyrade, 
vith  a  spy’s  quick  intelligence,  was  ferreting  and  probing 
everywhere.  The  faithful  servants  of  the  family  stood 
notionless  as  before,  half  terrified,  half  indignant  at  this 
'aid.  M.  d’Hauteserre  exchanged  compassionate  glances 
vith  his  wife  and  Mademoiselle  Goujet.  A  dreadful  curi¬ 
osity  kept  every  one  on  the  alert.  Just  then  Peyrade  came 
lown  with  a  box  in  his  hand.  It  was  a  small,  carved 
sandalwood  box,  that  the  Admiral  de  Simeuse  must  have 
Drought  from  China,  —  a  pretty,  flat  box,  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  quarto  volume. 

Peyrade  beckoned  Corentin  to  the  window. 

4 1  have  it ! 9  he  said.  4  That  Michu  who  could  pay 
Marion  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  gold  for  Gondreville, 
and  wanted  to  kill  Malin  just  now,  must  be  the  Simeuses’s 
man.  He  threatened  Marion  and  stalked  Malin  from  the 
same  motive.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  capable  of  carrying 
ideas  in  his  head ;  he  has  only  one  idea ;  he  got  to  know 
how  matters  are,  and  he  must  have  come  to  give  the  alarm 
fhere.’ 

4  Yes,  Malin  would  be  talking  about  the  plot  with  his 
i  friend  the  notary,’  said  Corentin,  following  out  his  col¬ 
league’s  reasoning ;  4  and  Michu  being  in  ambush,  no  doubt 
would  hear  the  Simeuses’s  name  mentioned.  In  short, 


96  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Michu  only  brought  himself  to  postpone  his  chance  of  a 
shot  at  him,  to  prevent  a  calamity  which  seemed  to  him 
to  be  even  greater  than  the  loss  of  Gondreville.’ 

4  He  saw  quite  well  what  we  are,’  remarked  Peyrade. 
‘  And  it  seemed  to  me,  at  the  time,  that  that  peasant’s 
intelligence  bordered  on  the  marvellous.’ 

4  Oh  !  this  proves  that  he  was  on  his  guard,’  replied 
Corentin.  4  But,  after  all,  old  man,  we  mustn’t  run  away 
with  the  wrong  idea.  Treachery  stinks  prodigiously,  and 
primitive  folk  smell  it  afar  off.’ 

4  So  much  the  better  for  us,’  rejoined  the  Provencal. 
Corentin  called  to  a  gendarme. 

c  Send  in  the  Arcis  constable,’  he  said,  adding  to  Peyrade, 
c  Let  us  send  down  to  the  lodge.’ 

4  Violette  is  there ;  his  ears  are  in  our  interest.’ 

c  We  set  out  before  we  heard  from  him,  though,’  said 
Corentin.  4  We  ought  to  have  brought  Sabatier.  Two 
of  us  are  not  enough.’ 

When  the  gendarme  came  in,  Corentin  edged  him  in 
between  himself  and  Peyrade. 

4  Constable,’  he  said,  4  don’t  let  them  take  a  rise  out  of 
you,  as  they  did  just  now  out  of  the  constable  from  Troyes. 
It  looks  to  us  as  if  Michu  were  in  this  affair.  Go  down 
to  the  lodge,  take  a  look  round,  and  report.’ 

4  One  of  my  men  heard  horses  in  the  forest,  when  they 
made  prisoners  of  the  lad  and  girl ;  and  I  have  four  stout 
fellows  at  the  heels  of  those  that  might  be  trying  to  hide 
there,’  said  the  constable.  He  went  out,  set  off  at  a  gallop 
down  the  paved  way  across  the  lav/n,  and  very  soon  the 
sounds  grew  faint  in  the  distance. 

4  Come ;  they  are  either  going  towards  Paris,  or  on  their 
way  back  to  Germany,’  said  Corentin  to  himself.  He  sat 
down,  took  a  note-book  from  the  pocket  of  his  spencer, 
wrote  out  two  orders  in  pencil,  sealed  them,  and  beckoned 
to  a  gendarme. 

4  Ride  off  to  Troyes  full  speed,  wake  up  the  prefect,  and 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  97 

tell  him  to  set  the  semaphore  at  work  as  soon  as  there  is 
light  enough.’ 

The  gendarme  galloped  off  with  the  message.  The 
x  meaning  of  this  proceeding  and  Corentin’s  intentions  were 
both  so  plain  that  the  whole  household  felt  something  clutch 
tightly  at  their  hearts ;  and  yet  the  uneasiness  was  in  some 
sort  an  added  pang  in  their  anguish,  for  their  eyes  were  all 
fixed  upon  the  precious  casket.  While  the  two  agents 
spoke  together,  they  furtively  read  the  language  of  those 
blazing  eyes ;  and  their  unfeeling  hearts  were  moved  to  a 
sort  of  cold  anger;  they  enjoyed  the  consternation  about 
v  them. 

The  sensations  of  the  sportsman  and  the  detective  are 
the  same ;  but  while  the  one  exerts  all  the  powers  of  body 
and  mind  to  kill  a  hare,  a  partridge,  or  a  buck,  the  concern 
p  of  the  other  is  to  save  a  government  or  a  prince,  and  to  earn 
a  large  reward.  And  this  sport,  in  which  man  is  the  game, 
is  superior  to  all  other  sport  by  the  whole  distance  that 
separates  man  from  the  brute.  A  spy,  moreover,  is  fain  to 
c  magnify  his  part  by  the  greatness  and  importance  of  the 
interests  at  stake.  A  man  has  no  need  to  meddle  in  such 
a  business  to  realise  that  there  is  as  much  passionate  inter¬ 
est  thrown  into  it  as  ever  the  hunter  can  put  into  the  chase. 
As  the  two  detectives  gained  a  glimmering  of  the  truth, 
their  eagerness  grew  warmer,  but  their  faces  and  eyes  were 
indifferent  and  composed ;  their  suspicions,  thoughts,  and 
plan  of  action  were  impenetrable  as  ever.  Yet  for  any  one 
who  could  have  watched  these  two  sleuth-hounds  at  their 
%  work,  who  could  have  seen  the  way  in  which  they  tracked 
down  unknown  and  concealed  facts,  and  have  understood 
the  swift,  canine  instinct  which  led  them  to  find  the  truth 
after  a  rapid  survey  of  probabilities,  there  was  something, 
''T  say,  in  all  this  to  make  one  shudder. 

How  and  why  had  these  men  of  genius  fallen  so  low, 
when  they  might  have  been  so  high  ?  What  flaw,  what 
defect,  what  passion  was  it  that  had  so  debased  them  ?  Is 


98 


A  Gondreville  Mystery 


a  man  a  detective,  as  others  are  thinkers,  writers,  states¬ 
men,  painters,  commanders  on  the  battle-field,  on  condition 
that  he  shall  do  nothing  but  play  the  spy,  just  as  other  men 
do  nothing  but  speak,  write  books,  govern,  paint,  or  fight,  j 
all  their  lives  long  ?  At  the  chateau  there  was  but  one 
wish  in  the  hearts  of  the  household,  — c  Will  not  thunder 
fall  upon  these  wretches  ? 9  Every  creature  thirsted  for 
revenge.  But  for  the  presence  of  the  gendarmes  there  J 
would  have  been  an  outbreak. 

c  Nobody  has  the  key  of  the  box,’  suggested  the  cynical  * 
Peyrade,  giving  an  interrogative  force  to  his  remark  by 
turning  his  great  red  face  upon  the  company.  He  noticed 
as  he  did  so,  not  without  some  inward  quaking,  that  then 
were  no  gendarmes  left  in  the  room.  Corentin  and  h 
were  alone. 

Corentin  drew  a  small  dagger  from  his  pocket  and  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  force  it  under  the  lid  of  the  box.  Even  as  he 
did  so,  they  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse  galloping  first  on 
the  road,  afterwards  on  the  paved  way  across  the  lawn ;  it 
was  the  terrible  sound  of  a  horse  at  the  last  gasp,  succeeded^ 
by  the  far  more  dreadful  moan,  as  the  animal  fell  in  a  heap 
at  the  foot  of  the  central  turret. 

The  rustle  of  a  riding-habit  was  followed  by  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  Laurence  herself,  and  in  a  moment  the  servants^ 
stood  aside  to  right  and  left  to  allow  her  to  pass.  If  a 
thunderbolt  had  fallen  in  their  midst  there  could  not  have 
been  more  commotion.  Quickly  as  she  had  ridden,  she 
had  had  time  to  feel  the  pain  that  the  discovery  of  the  con¬ 
spiracy  must  inevitably  cause  her.  All  her  hopes  were* 
wrecked.  She  had  galloped  across  the  ruins  of  them,  think¬ 
ing  all  the  while  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  now  but 
submission  to  the  consular  government;  and  if  she  had  not 
quelled  fatigue  and  exhaustion  with  the  thought  of  the  four* 
nobles  in  peril  of  their  lives  she  would  have  sunk  fainting 
to  the  ground.  She  had  all  but  killed  her  mare  to  come 
back  to  stand  between  her  cousins  and  death. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  99 

At  the  sight  of  the  heroic  girl  with  the  veil  put  back 
from  her  white,  drawn  face,  and  her  riding-whip  in  her 
hand,  every  one  knew  by  an  almost  imperceptible  twitch  of 
P  Corentin’s  sour,  troubled  countenance  that  now  the  real 
antagonists  were  face  to  face.  A  dreadful  duel  was  about 
to  begin. 

The  Countess  saw  Corentin  with  the  box  in  his  hands ; 
v*  raising  her  riding-whip  she  sprang  at  him  so  quickly  and 
slashed  him  so  sharply  over  the  hands  that  the  casket 
dropped  to  the  ground.  She  snatched  it  up,  flung  it  into 
the  fire,  and  stood  with  her  back  to  the  hearth  in  a  defiant 
attitude  before  the  agents  of  police  could  recover  from  their 
surprise.  Scorn  blazed  in  Laurence’s  eyes ;  her  white  fore¬ 
head  and  disdainful  lips  expressed  more  of  insult  than  even 
her  autocrat’s  action  as  she  spurned  Corentin  for  a  ven- 
>  omous  reptile.  The  chivalrous  instinct  was  roused  in 
old  d’Hauteserre;  all  the  blood  rushed  into  his  face;  he 
wished  that  he  had  his  sword  at  his  side.  The  servants  at 
first  thrilled  with  joy ;  the  vengeance  so  long  invoked  had 

*  fallen  like  a  thunderbolt  on  one  of  these  men  ;  but  a  hideous 
fear  soon  thrust  the  joy  down  into  the  depths  of  their  souls. 
They  could  still  hear  the  gendarmes  coming  and  going  in 
the  attics  overhead. 

The  spy, —  for  all  distinctions  among  agents  of  police 
are  confounded  and  labelled  with  one  vigorous  epithet  by  a 
public  that  has  never  cared  to  find  separate  names  to  suit 
the  various  practitioners  of  a  leech-craft  indispensable  to 
governments,  —  the  spy  has  something  about  him  that  is 

*  magnificent  and  curious  :  he  never  resents  anything.  His 
is  the  Christian  humility  of  the  priest ;  his  eyes  are  used  to 
bear  scorn ;  he  raises,  as  it  were,  a  barrier  between  him- 

^  self  and  the  multitude  of  fools  that  do  not  understand  him. 
Insults  he  meets  with  brows  of  brass ;  he  moves  to  his  goal 
like  some  creatu/e  encased  in  a  shell  that  nothing;  short 
of  a  cannon-ball  can  pierce ;  and,  like  his  prototype  of  the 
carapace,  he  is  the  more  furious  when  wounded  because  he 


ioo  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

believed  himself  secure  in  his  armour.  For  Corentin  that 
slash  across  the  fingers,  quite  apart  from  the  pain,  was  like 
the  cannon-ball  crashing  through  the  carapace ;  the  gesture, 
fraught  with  the  loathing  of  a  noble  and  heroic  girl,  humili¬ 
ated  him  not  merely  in  the  eyes  of  the  onlookers,  but  even 
in  his  own. 

Peyrade,  the  Provencal,  sprang  towards  her.  Laurence 
spurned  him,  but  he  caught  her  by  the  foot  and  forced  her 
in  that  undignified  fashion  back  into  the  low  chair  where 
she  had  lain  asleep  only  a  few  hours  ago.  It  was  a  bit  of 
burlesque  in  the  midst  of  terror,  that  touch  of  incongruity 
which  is  seldom  wanting  in  human  life.  Peyrade  scorched  i 
his  hand  as  he  snatched  the  box  from  the  fire,  but  he  took 
possession  of  the  thing,  dropped  it  on  the  floor  and  sat 
down  upon  it.  The  little  events  followed  in  swift  succes¬ 
sion,  without  a  word.  Corentin,  recovered  from  the  smart- 
ing  sensation  of  the  blow,  held  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne 
down  by  the  wrists. 

c  Do  not  oblige  me  to  use  force  to  you,  fair  citoyenne,’ 
he  remarked,  with  withering  courtesy. 

Peyrade,  sitting  on  his  prize,  had  stifled  out  the  flames. 

c  Here,  men  ! ’  he  called,  still  squatting  in  his  odd  position. 

cWill  you  promise  to  behave  yourself  ?’  said  Corentin, 
insolently  addressing  Laurence  while  he  put  up  his  dagger. 
He  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  threatening  her. 

c  The  secrets  in  the  box  do  not  concern  the  Govern¬ 
ment,’  said  she,  with  a  touch  of  melancholy  in  her  face 
and  tone.  c  When  you  have  read  those  letters,  vile  as 
you  are,  you  will  feel  ashamed  to  have  read  them.  .  .  .  * 
But  have  you  any  sense  of  shame  still  left  ?  ’  she  added 
after  a  pause. 

The  cure  glanced  at  Laurence.  c  For  God’s  sake,  calm 
yourself!  ’  he  seemed  to  say. 

Peyrade  got  up  from  the  floor.  The  bottom  of  the  box 
had  teen  almost  burnt  out  on  the  coals ;  it  had  left  a 
scorched  mark  on  the  carpet.  The  lid  was  almost  reduced 


IOI 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 

to  charcoal  by  this  time  ;  the  sides  gave  way ;  and  this 
grotesque  Scaevola,  who  had  just  sacrificed  the  seat  of  his 
apricot-coloured  breeches  to  the  deity  of  detectives,  opened 
out  the  casket  as  if  it  had  been  a  book.  Three  letters  and 
two  locks  of  hair  slid  down  upon  the  baize  of  the  card- 
table.  Peyrade  was  about  to  smile  significantly  at  Corentin 
when  he  saw  that  both  the  locks  of  hair  were  almost  white. 
Corentin  turned  away  from  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne, 
picked  up  one  of  the  letters,  and  began  to  read  it. 

Laurence  also  rose  and  stood  beside  the  agents  at  the 
table. 

4  Oh !  read  it  aloud,’  she  said ;  4  that  shall  be  your 
punishment.’ 

And  as  they  continued  to  read  to  themselves,  Laurence 
herself  took  up  the  third  letter  and  began' :  — 

4  Dear  Laurence,  —  My  husband  and  I  have  heard  of 
your  noble  behaviour  on  that  sad  day  of  our  arrest.  We 
know  that  you  love  our  two  darling  sons  both  equally 
dearly  and  as  much  as  we  love  them  ourselves,  so  we  are 
entrusting  you  with  a  legacy  both  sad  and  dear  to  them. 
M.  r Ex'e cut eur  has  just  cut  off  our  hair,  for  we  are  to 
die  in  a  very  few  minutes,  and  he  has  promised  to  give 
these,  the  only  keepsakes  that  we  can  give  our  dearly 
loved  orphans,  into  your  hands.  So  keep  these  locks  of 
our  hair  to  give  to  them  in  better  days.  A  last  kiss  and 
our  blessing  goes  with  each.  Our  last  thought  will  be 
of  our  sons,  and  then  of  you,  and  afterwards  of  God. 
Love  them  dearly,  Laurence. 

4  Berthe  de  Cinq^-Cygne. 

4  Jean  de  Simeuse.’ 

There  were  tears  in  all  eyes  when  the  letter  had  been 
read. 

Laurence  turned  a  stony  gaze  upon  the  two  agents,  and 
spoke  without  a  tremor  in  her  voice :  — 


102  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  You  have  been  less  merciful  than  M.  /’ Ex'ecuteur  !  9  A 

Corentin  quite  composedly  took  the  letter,  put  the  locks 
of  hair  inside  it,  and  laid  it  aside  on  the  table  with  a  heap 
of  counters  on  the  top  as  a  paper-weight.  There  was 
something  dreadful  in  the  man’s  coolness  amid  the  general  % 
emotion.  Peyrade  unfolded  the  other  sheets. 

4  Oh  !  as  to  those,’  said  Laurence, 4  they  are  almost  alike. 
You  heard  the  will  read,  now  you  shall  see  how  it  was 
carried  into  effect.  After  this  my  heart  will  have  no  secrets 
left;  this  is  all. 

‘Andernach,  1794. 

‘ Before  the  battle . 

4  My  dear  Laurence,  —  I  shall  love  you  so  long  as  I  live, 
and  I  want  you  to  know  this  for  certain ;  but  you  ought  to 
know  in  case  I  should  fall,  that  Paul  Marie  loves  you  as  I 
love  you.  My  one  comfort  if  I  fall  will  be  the  thought  * 
that  some  day  you  may  take  this  dear  brother  of  mine  for 
your  husband,  and  I  shall  not  be  eaten  up  with  jealousy  as 
I  certainly  should  be  if  that  should  happen  while  we  both 
were  alive.  After  all,  it  seems  to  me  very  natural  that  you  J 
should  like  him  better,  for  perhaps  he  is  more  worthy  than 
I  am  .  .  .  .’  and  so  forth. 

4  Marie  Paul/ 

4  Here  is  the  other,’  she  went  on,  while  a  charming  colour 
flushed  her  forehead. 

‘Andernach, 

‘ Before  the  battle . 

4  My  kind  Laurence,  —  There  is  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  * 
my  nature ;  but  Marie  Paul  is  so  bright  and  happy  that 
you  must  care  far  more  for  him  than  for  me.  Some  day, 
perhaps,  you  will  be  obliged  to  choose  between  us;  well,  then 
—  though  I  love  you  passionately  .  .  / 

4  You  have  been  in  correspondence  with  emigres ,’  broke 
in  Peyrade,  and  by  way  of  precaution  he  held  up  the  letters 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  103 

to  the  light  to  see  if  anything  were  written  in  sympathetic 
ink  between  the  lines. 

c  Yes,’  said  Laurence,  folding  up  the  precious  letters, 
yellowed  by  time.  4  But  what  right  have  you  to  force  an 
entrance  into  my  house,  to  violate  the  liberty  of  the  subject 
and  all  the  sacred  rights  of  the  hearth  ?  ’ 

4  Ah,  indeed  !  ’  said  Peyrade.  4  What  right  ?  You  shall 
be  informed,  fair  aristocrat.’  He  drew  from  his  pocket,  as 
he  spoke,  an  order  from  the  Minister  of  Justice,  counter¬ 
signed  by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior.  4  Look  you  here, 
citoyenne,  the  Ministers  have  taken  a  notion  into  their 
heads - ’ 

4  We  might  ask  you  what  right  you  have  to  harbour 
assassins  of  the  First  Consul,’  said  Corentin,  lowering  his 
voice  for  her  ear.  4  When  you  struck  me  just  now  with 
your  riding-whip,  you  gave  me  a  right  to  strike  a  blow  in 
my  turn  to  despatch  my  lords  your  cousins — when  I  had 
come  to  save  them.’ 

The  cure,  watching  them,  knew  what  was  said  by  the 
expression  of  Laurence’s  eyes,  and  the  movement  of  the 
lips  of  the  great  unknown  actor;  he  made  a  sign  to 
Laurence  to  beware.  Nobody  but  Goulard  saw  the  gest¬ 
ure.  Peyrade  was  tapping  the  bottom  of  the  box  to  see  if 
it  was  hollow. 

4  Ah,  God  !  ’  cried  Laurence,  snatching  away  the  lid,  c  do 
not  break  it.  Wait !  ’ 

She  took  a  pin  and  pressed  it  against  one  of  the  figures ; 
a  spring  gave  way,  the  lid  came  in  two,  and  disclosed  two 
ivory  miniatures  painted  in  Germany :  the  portraits  of  the 
Simeuses  in  the  uniforms  of  the  Army  of  Conde.  Corentin, 
thus  confronted  by  an  adversary  worthy  of  his  anger,  with¬ 
drew  into  a  corner  with  Peyrade.  There  was  a  whispered 
conference. 

4  And  you  threw  that  on  the  fire  !  ’  said  the  Abbe  Goujet, 
looking  at  the  old  Marquise’s  letters  and  the  locks  of  hair. 

For  all  answer  Laurence  shrugged  her  shoulders  sig- 


104  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

nificantly.  The  cure  knew  that  she  had  made  this  supreme 
sacrifice  to  keep  the  spies  in  play  and  gain  time.  He  raised 
his  eyes  in  admiration. 

c  But  where  can  they  have  caught  Gothard  ?  I  can  hear 
him  crying/  she  added,  loud  enough  to  be  heard. 

4  I  do  not  know/  said  the  cure. 

4  Had  he  gone  to  the  farm  ? 9 

‘Farm!’  repeated  Peyrade.  4  Let  us  send  somebody 
there.’ 

c  No/  returned  Corentin ;  4  that  girl  would  not  have 
trusted  her  cousins’  lives  to  a  tenant.  She  is  amusing 
us.  Do  as  I  tell  you.  We  made  a  blunder  when  we  ^ 
came  here ,  we  will  at  least  find  out  something  before 
we  go.’ 

Corentin  went  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and 
raised  his  long,  pointed  coat-tails  to  warm  himself.  From  ^ 
his  manner,  look,  and  tone,  he  might  have  been  there  on 
a  visit. 

4  Ladies,  you  may  retire  to  bed,  and  the  servants  like¬ 
wise.  M.  le  Maire,  your  services  are  no  longer  required.  J 
We  acted  upon  strict  orders,  and  could  not  do  otherwise 
than  we  have  done ;  but  when  all  the  walls,  which  are 
very  thick,  it  seems  to  me,  have  been  examined,  we  shall 
g0/ 

The  mayor  took  leave  of  the  company  and  went. 
Neither  the  cure  nor  Mademoiselle  Goujet  stirred,  and 
the  servants  were  too  anxious  not  to  stay  and  see  what 
happened  to  their  mistress.  Ever  since  Laurence  came 
into  the  room,  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  with  a  despairing  ♦ 
mother’s  curious  gaze,  had  been  poring  on  the  girl’s 
face.  Now  she  took  Laurence  by  the  arm,  and  drew 
her  into  a  corner,  murmuring,  4  Have  you  seen  them  ?  ’ 

4  How  could  I  have  allowed  your  sons  to  come  under  * 
our  roof  without  your  knowledge  ?  ’  returned  Laurence. 

4  Durieu/  she  added,  4  go  and  see  if  it  is  possible  to  save 
my  poor  Stella;  she  is  still  breathing.’ 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  105 

4  Has  she  been  ridden  far  ? ’  asked  Corentin. 

4  Thirty-seven  miles  in  three  hours/  said  Laurence, 
addressing  her  remark  to  the  cure,  who  gazed  at  her  in 
dull  amazement.  4 1  went  out  at  half-past  nine,  and  it 
was  after  one  o’clock  when  I  came  in.’ 

She  looked  at  the  clock  as  she  spoke.  It  was  then 
half-past  two. 

4  Then  you  do  not  deny  that  you  have  ridden  thirty- 
seven  miles  ?  9  remarked  Corentin. 

4  No,’  said  she.  4 1  admit  that  my  cousins  and  the 
MM.  d’Hauteserre,  in  their  perfect  innocence,  meant  to 
make  application  to  be  included  in  the  amnesty,  and  they 
were  on  their  way  back  to  Cinq-Cygne.  So  as  .  soon  as 
I  had  reason  to  believe  that  the  Sieur  Malin  meant  to 
implicate  them  in  some  treasonable  plot,  I  went  to  warn 
them  to  return  to  Germany.  They  will  be  safely  across 
the  frontier  before  the  message  can  be  signalled  from 
Troyes  to  stop  them.  If  this  was  a  crime,  let  me  be 
punished  for  it.’ 

Laurence’s  reply  had  been  well  thought  out ;  it  was 
so  plausible  in  every  respect  that  Corentin  was  staggered 
by  it.  The  Countess  watched  the  agent  out  of  the  corner 
of  her  eye.  Just  at  this  critical  moment,  when  all  souls 
were  hanging  as  it  were  upon  the  two  faces,  and  all  eyes 
went  from  Laurence  to  Corentin,  and  from  Corentin  to 
Laurence,  the  sound  of  a  galloping  horse  reached  them 
from  the  forest.  It  grew  nearer  and  nearer,  till  the  rider 
crossed  the  bridge  and  the  paved  way  across  the  lawn. 
There  was  a  look  of  ghastly  dread  in  every  face. 

It  was  Peyrade  who  came  in,  his  face  radiant  with  de¬ 
light.  He  hurried  to  his  colleague,  and  said,  loud  enough 
for  the  Countess  to  overhear  him  :  — 

4  We  have  got  Michu  !  ’ 

Anguish,  physical  exhaustion,  and  the  strain  upon  every 
mental  faculty  had  brought  the  red  colour  to  Laurence’s 
cheeks  now  she  grew  white  once  more,  and  fell,  as  if 


io 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

thunder-stricken,  half  fainting  into  a  chair.  La  Durieu,  * 
Mademoiselle  Goujet,  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  sprang 
towards  her.  She  gasped  for  breath.  She  signed  to  them 
to  cut  the  loops  of  braid  that  fastened  her  riding-habit. 

c  She  was  taken  in  by  it.  .  .  .  They  are  on  the  way  to  ^ 
Paris  !  ’  said  Corentin,  conferring  with  Peyrade.  c  Let  us 
change  the  orders.’ 

The  pair  went  out,  leaving  a  gendarme  on  guard  at  the 
door.  Their  diabolical  ingenuity  had  won  them  a  cruel 
advantage  in  this  duel ;  they  had  ensnared  Laurence  by  a 
common  artifice. 

At  six  o’clock  in  the  morning,  with  the  first  grey  light,  f 
the  agents  of  police  came  back  again.  They  had  explored 
the  hollow  lane,  and  convinced  themselves  that  horses  had 
taken  the  way  into  the  forest.  The  chateau  was  guarded 
by  gendarmes  under  a  constable’s  order,  while  they  went  ^ 
off  to  breakfast  at  the  little  wine-shop  in  the  village  of  Cinq- 
Cygne ;  but  not  before  orders  had  been  givefi  that  Cather¬ 
ine,  persistently  stolid  and  silent,  and  Gothard  who  replied 
to  every  question  by  an  outbreak  of  tears,  should  both  be  * 
set  at  liberty.  Catherine  and  Gothard  came  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  Laurence  was  lying  in  the  great  low 
chair,  and  kissed  their  mistress’s  hands.  Durieu  came  in 
a  while  to  say  that  Stella  was  out  of  danger,  though  her 
condition  needed  great  care. 

The  mayor,  fidgety  and  inquisitive,  met  Peyrade  and 
Corentin  in  the  village.  He  could  not  allow  government 
officials  of  so  high  a  rank  to  breakfast  in  a  wretched  village 
wine-shop,  and  brought  them  home.  The  Abbey  lay  # 
about  half  a  mile  away,  and  on  the  road  thither  Peyrade 
bethought  himself  that  the  Arcis  constable  had  not  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  bringing  any  news  of  Michu  or  Violette. 

cWe  have  no  common  people  to  deal  with,’  remarked  * 
Corentin.  ‘They  are  too  clever  for  us.  The  priest  has 
a  hand  in  it,  no  doubt.’ 

Madame  Goulard  had  just  brought  her  guests  into  the 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  107 

vast,  fireless  dining-hall,  when  the  lieutenant  arrived  with 
a  scared  face. 

c  We  have  just  come  across  the  Arcis  constable’s  horse, 
riderless  in  the  forest,’  he  told  Peyrade. 

c  Run  round  to  Michu’s  lodge,  lieutenant !  ’  cried  Coren- 
tin.  c  Find  out  what  is  going  on  there.  Perhaps  they  have 
killed  the  constable.’ 

This  news  spoiled  the  mayor’s  breakfast.  Huntsmen 
eating  at  a  halting-place  could  not  have  bolted  their  pro¬ 
visions  more  rapidly  than  the  two  Parisians;  and  the  meal 
over,  they  drove  back  to  the  chateau  in  their  basket-chaise 
with  the  post-horse,  so  as  to  bear  down  as  quickly  as 
possible  upon  any  point,  as  it  might  prove  necessary. 

When  they  entered  the  drawing-room  whither  they  had 
suddenly  brought  trouble  and  dismay  and  sorrow,  and  the 
most  cruel  anxiety,  they  found  Laurence,  in  a  loose  wrap¬ 
per,  old  M.  d’Hauteserre  and  his  wife,  and  the  Abbe 
Goujet  and  his  sister,  all  seated  about  the  fire,  and  to  all 
appearance,  quiet  in  their  minds. 

c  If  they  had  really  caught  Michu  they  would  have 
brought  him  in,’  Laurence  had  said  to  herself.  c  It  is 
mortifying  to  think  that  I  lost  my  self-command,  and 
threw  a  light  on  those  wretches’  suspicions ;  but  all  can  be 
put  right  again.  Are  we  going  to  be  your  prisoners  for 
long  ?  ’  she  asked  aloud,  with  a  satirical,  careless  air. 

The  two  spies  exchanged  glances. 

c  How  can  she  know  something  of  our  uneasiness  about 
Michu  ?  Nobody  outside  could  get  into  the  chateau.  She 
is  making  fools  of  us,’  their  looks  seemed  to  say. 

‘We  shall  not  trouble  you  with  our  presence  much 
longer,’  returned  Corentin.  c  In  three  hours’  time  we  will 
make  our  apologies  for  disturbing  your  solitude.’ 

Nobody  answered  him.  The  contemptuous  silence 
exasperated  Corentin’s  inward  fury.  Laurence  and  the 
abbe,  the  two  intellects  of  this  little  group,  had  exchanged 
views  of  Corentin  to  their  mutual  edification.  Catherine 


108  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

and  Gothard  set  the  table  by  the  fire,  and  the  cure  and  his 
sister  joined  the  family  at  breakfast.  Neither  they  nor 
their  servants  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the  spies,  and 
Corentin  and  Peyrade  walked  up  and  down  in  the  gardens,  % 
in  the  court,  and  along  the  road,  returning  now  and  again 
to  the  drawing-room. 

At  half-past  two  o’clock  the  lieutenant  put  in  an  appear¬ 
ance.  * 

4  I  have  found  the  constable,’  he  reported  to  Corentin ; 

4  he  was  lying  on  the  road  between  the  Cinq-Cygne  lodge, 
as  they  call  it,  and  Bellache.  He  had  no  wound  except  a 
frightful  cut  on  the  head  ;  it  looked  as  if  he  had  got  it  with  , 
that  fall.  He  was  knocked  backwards  off*  his  horse  so  sud¬ 
denly  that  he  cannot  explain  how  it  happened,  he  says. 
His  feet  slipped  out  of  the  stirrups  or  he  would  have  been 
dead  by  now ;  his  horse  took  fright  and  might  have  dragged  r 
him  along  the  ground.  We  left  him  in  charge  of  Michu 
and  Violette - ’ 

4  What!  Is  Michu  at  the  lodge?’  asked  Corentin, 
watching  Laurence  as  he  spoke.  The  Countess  smiled  t 
shrewdly  to  herself,  a  woman’s  retaliation. 

4  He  and  Violette  began  bargaining  last  night,  and  when 
I  saw  him  they  were  near  the  finish,’  said  the  lieutenant. 

4  They  were  both  of  them  a  bit  flustered,  it  seemed  to  me,  J 
and  no  wonder;  they  have  been  making  a  night  of  it  together 
and  have  not  managed  to  hit  it  off  yet.’ 

4  Did  Violette  tell  you  so  ?  ’  cried  Corentin. 

4  Yes.’ 

4  Ah  !  if  you  want  a  thing  done  you  must  do  it  yourself!  ’  * 
said  Peyrade,  looking  at  Corentin,  who  seemed  to  share  his 
poor  opinion  of  the  lieutenant’s  intelligence,  and  nodded 
assent  to  his  serious  remark. 

4  When  did  you  reach  Michu’s  place?’  asked  Corentin.  * 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  had  glanced  at  the  clock,  and 
this  fact  had  not  been  lost  upon  him. 

‘Somewhere  about  two  o’clock,’  the  lieutenant  replied. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  109 

Laurence  included  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre, 
the  Abbe  Goujet  and  his  sister  in  one  glance,  that  seemed 
to  envelop  them  in  a  mantle  of  blue  light ;  the  joy  of  tri¬ 
umph  glittered  in  her  eyes  ;  there  was  colour  in  her  cheeks; 
there  were  tears  beneath  her  lashes.  The  girl  that  had  been 
so  strong  to  endure  could  shed  no  tears  but  tears  of  gladness. 
She  was  transfigured  for  them,  especially  for  the  cure ;  he 
,  had  been  almost  vexed  by  Laurence’s  masculine  strength 
of  character ;  now  he  saw  the  woman’s  exceeding  tender¬ 
ness.  Laurence’s  sensibilities  lay  like  hidden  treasure  in 
some  unfathomed  depths  beneath  a  block  of  granite. 

A  gendarme  came  to  ask  whether  Michu’s  son  was  to  be 
allowed  to  come  in ;  he  had  brought  a  message  from  his 
father  to  the  gentlemen  from  Paris.  Corentin  nodded. 
Francois  Michu,  a  sharp  boy,  and  a  chip  of  the  old  block, 
was  outside  in  the  yard  meanwhile ;  and  Gothard,  now  at 
liberty,  had  time  to  exchange  a  word  or  two  with  him  under 
the  gendarme’s  nose.  That  functionary  did  not  observe  that 
the  boy  slipped  something  into  Gothard’s  hand ;  and  so  lit¬ 
tle  Michu  accomplished  his  errand.  Gothard  stole  in  be¬ 
hind  Francois,  reached  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  and 
with  an  innocent  air  gave  her  back  both  halves  of  the 
broken  ring.  Laurence  kissed  it  with  passionate  fervour ; 
she  knew  now  that  Michu  had  redeemed  his  word  and  that 
the  four  nobles  were  in  safety.  Meanwhile  Francis  was 
delivering  his  message. 

‘  Dad  wants  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  constable ;  he 
is  in  a  bad  way.’ 

‘  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  ’  asked  Peyrade. 

‘  It’s  his  head  ;  he  came  a  cropper  though  and  no  mistake. 
For  a  gindarme  as  knows  how  to  ride  a  horse,  that  is  bad 
luck,  but  he  must  have  stumbled  !  There  is  a  hole,  oh ! 
6  as  big  as  your  fist  at  the  back  of  his  head.  Seems  that  it 
was  his  luck  to  come  down  on  a  nasty  flint.  Poor  man  ! 
Much  good  his  being  a  gindarme  does  him;  he  suffers  all 
the  same,  till  it  makes  you  sorry  to  see  it.’ 


no  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

The  captain  from  Troyes  rode  into  the  courtyard,  dis¬ 
mounted,  and  beckoned  to  Corentin.  Corentin  rushed  to 
the  window  and  flung  it  open  to  save  time. 

4  What  is  the  matter  ?  ’  t 

4  We  have  come  back  like  Dutchmen  ! ’  he  said.  c  Five 
horses  have  been  found  ridden  to  death,  hair  stiff  with 
sweat,  right  in  the  middle  of  the  main  avenue  through  the 
forest.  I  have  had  them  kept  so  that  we  may  find  out  # 
where  they  came  from  and  who  supplied  them.  There  is 
a  cordon  round  the  forest ;  nobody  inside  can  get  out  now.’ 

4  When  do  you  think  these  horsemen  came  into  the  forest  ?  ’ 

4  At  half-past  twelve  at  noon.’  * 

4  Don’t  let  a  hare  leave  unseen,’  said  Corentin,  lowering 
his  voice.  4 1  will  leave  Peyrade  here,  and  go  to  see  the 
constable,  poor  fellow,  directly.’  Then  turning  to  Peyrade, 

4  Stop  at  the  mayor’s  house ;  I  will  send  a  sharp  man  to  re-  % 
lieve  you,’  he  added.  4  We  must  make  use  of  the  people 
hereabouts  ;  notice  all  the  faces  there.’ 

Then  he  turned  to  the  company.  ^Au  revoir !  ’  he  ex¬ 
claimed,  with  an  appalling  ring  in  his  voice.  Nobody  spoke 
or  moved  when  the  agents  of  police  went  out. 

4 A  fruitless  domiciliary  visit!  what  will  Fouche  say?’ 
exclaimed  Peyrade,  as  he  handed  Corentin  into  the  basket- 
chaise.  - 

4  Oh  !  all  is  not  over,’  returned  Corentin,  in  his  associ¬ 
ate’s  ear;  4 the  Simeuses  are  sure  to  be  in  the  forest.’ 

•  Laurence  was  standing  in  one  of  the  great  windows  of 
the  dining-room,  looking  out  at  them  through  the  small 
square  panes.  Corentin  glanced  significantly  towards  her.  3 
4  There  was  another  once  that  was  at  least  her  equal,’  he 
said.  4  She  stirred  my  bile  too  much,  and  I  did  for  her.  If 
this  one  falls  into  my  power  again  I  will  pay  her  out  for 
that  cut  with  the  whip.’ 

4  The  other 1  was  an  adventuress,’  said  Peyrade,  4  and 
this  one  is - ’ 


1  See  Les  Chouam . 


Ill 


The  Trials  of  the  Police 

4  Does  that  make  any  difference  to  me  ?  All  are  fish  in 
the  sea/  said  Corentin,  with  a  sign  to  the  gendarme  to  whip 
up  the  post-horse. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  chateau  was  completely  and  entirely 
evacuated. 

4  How  was  the  constable  got  out  of  the  way  ? 9  asked 
Laurence  of  Francois  Michu.  She  had  food  brought  for 
him  and  made  him  sit  beside  her. 

4  Father  and  mother  said  that  it  was  a  matter  of  life  and 
death,  and  that  nobody  was  to  come  into  the  house.  So  I 
knew,  when  I  heard  horses  going  about  in  the  forest,  that  I 
had  to  do  with  those  beastly  gendarmes,  and  I  tried  to  keep 
them  from  coming  to  us.  I  brought  down  some  thick  cord 
out  of  our  garret,  and  tied  it  firmly  to  a  tree  just  at  the 
opening  of  each  way.  And  while  I  was  about  it  I  tied  the 
cord  high  up  so  as  to  catch  a  man  on  horseback  across 
the  chest,  and  left  the  other  end  loose  till  I  heard  a  horse 
come  galloping  down  one  of  the  roads.  Then  I  made  the 
end  fast  to  the  tree  opposite,  and  the  road  was  barred.  It 
fell  out  all  right.  The  moon  had  set,  the  constable  came 
a  cropper,  but  he  was  not  killed.  What  can  you  expect  ? 
They  are  so  tough,  are  gendarmes.  After  all,  one  does  what 
one  can/ 

4  You  saved  us  !  *  Laurence  said,  giving  the  child  a  kiss. 
She  went  with  him  as  far  as  the  gate,  and  then  looking 
round  to  make  sure  that  no  one  was  near,  she  whispered, 

4  Have  they  provisions  ? 9 

4 1  have  just  taken  them  a  twelve-pound  loaf  and  four 41 
bottles  of  wine.  They  will  keep  close  for  six  days/ 

Laurence  went  back  to  the  drawing-room.  Monsieur 
and  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  the  Abbe  Goujet  and  his  sister, 
looked  at  her  with  questioning  eyes  in  which  anxiety  and 
admiration  were  equally  blended. 

4  Have  you  really  seen  them  again  ?  *  cried  Madame 
d’Hauteserre. 

But  Laurence,  smiling,  laid  a  finger  on  her  lips,  and 


1 1 2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

went  upstairs  to  bed.  When  once  the  victory  was  won, 
weariness  overcame  her. 

The  shortest  way  from  Cinq-Cygne  to  Michu’s  lodge 
was  by  the  road  from  the  village  to  Bellache  ;  it  debouched 
upon  the  circular  space  where  the  detectives  first  appeared 
to  Michu,  on  the  previous  evening.  The  Arcis  constable 
had  come  this  way,  and  the  gendarmes  now  brought  f 
Corentin  over  the  same  ground.  The  agent,  as  he  went, 
was  on  the  lookout  for  any  trace  of  the  means  by  which 
the  constable  was  thrown  out  of  the  saddle.  He  rated 
himself  for  sending  a  single  man  to  clear  up  so  important 
a  point,  and  drew  an  axiom  from  the  experience  to  incor¬ 
porate  in  a  code  which  he  was  compiling  for  his  own  I 
private  use. 

c  If  they  put  the  gendarme  out  of  the  way,’  thought  he,  ^ 
c  they  will  have  got  rid  of  Violette  as  well.  The  five  dead 
horses  evidently  brought  back  Michu  and  the  four  con¬ 
spirators  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris.  Has  M’chu 
a  horse  ?  ’  he  asked,  turning  to  the  gendarme,  who  hap-  . 
pened  to  belong  to  the  Arcis  contingent. 

c  Ah  !  yes,  and  a  famous  nag  it  is ;  a  hunter  out  of  the 
ci-devant  Marquis’s  stables.  Fifteen  years  old  and  only 
the  better  for  age.  Michu  will  ride  thirty  miles  and  more, 
and  the  animal’s  hide  will  be  as  dry  as  my  hat.  Oh  1  he 
thinks  a  lot  of  his  horse ;  he  won’t  take  money  for  it.’ 
c  What  is  the  horse  like  ?  ’ 

c  A  dark  bay,  spotted  with  white  about  the  feet.  A 
thin  animal,  all  muscle,  like  an  Arab.’  * 

c  Have  you  seen  Arabian  horses  ?  ’ 

c  I  came  back  from  Egypt  a  year  ago.  I  have  ridden 
the  Mamelukes’  horses.  You  serve  eleven  years  ifi  the 
cavalry.  I  crossed  the  Rhine  with  General  Steingel,  then  * 

I  was  in  Italy,  and  I  followed  the  First  Consul  in  Egypt. 

So  I  shall  be  a  corporal  soon.’ 

c  While  I  am  in  Michu’s  lodge,  just  go  round  to  the 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  113 

stable.  If  you  have  lived  among  horses  for  eleven  years 
you  ought  to  know  when  a  horse  has  been  ridden  hard.’ 

c  There  !  that  is  where  our  corporal  was  thrown/  said 
the  man,  pointing  to  the  spot  where  the  road  emerged  into 
the  open  space. 

c  Tell  the  captain  to  call  for  me  at  the  lodge  here,  and 
we  will  go  together  back  to  Troyes.’ 

Corentin  alighted,  and  spent  several  minutes  in  observ¬ 
ing  the  place.  He  scrutinised  the  elm-trees  that  stood  on 
either  side.  One  grew  close  beside  the  park  wall,  the 
other  on  the  high  boundary  bank  of  the  circle,  which  was 
intersected  at  this  point  by  the  cross-road.  And  at  length 
Corentin  saw  something  which  every  one  else  had  passed 
over,  to  wit,  a  button  lying  in  the  dust,  a  button  from  a 
gendarme’s  uniform.  He  picked  it  up.  As  he  entered 
the  lodge,  he  beheld  Violette  and  Michu  sitting  at  the 
kitchen  table.  The  dispute  was  still  unfinished.  Violette 
got  up,  made  a  bow,  and  offered  Corentin  some  wine. 

c  Thanks.  .  .  .  I  should  like  to  see  the  corporal,’ returned 
Corentin.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that  Violette  had  been  drunk 
for  more  than  twelve  hours. 

c  My  wife  is  nursing  him  upstairs,’  said  Michu.  Coren-  ^ 
tin  sprang  up  the  staircase,  and  found  the  gendarme  lying 
on  Madame  Michu’s  bed,  his  head  covered  with  poultices. 
The  man’s  cap,  sword,  and  shoulder-belt  lay  on  a  chair. 
Marthe,  all  unaware  of  her  son’s  prowess,  was  true  to  her 
woman’s  instinct;  she  and  her  mother  were  nursing  the 
wounded  man. 

c  Well,  corporal,  how  are  you  doing?’  asked  Corentin. 

CM.  Varlet,  the  Arcis  doctor,  is  expected,’  Madame 
Michu  replied.  c  Gaucher  has  gone  to  fetch  him.’ 

c  Leave  us  a  moment,’  said  Corentin,  feeling  not  a  little 
surprised  by  this  scene,  for  the  women’s  innocence  was 
obvious.  c  Where  were  you  hit  ?  ’  he  asked,  looking  at  the 
man’s  uniform. 
c  In  the  chest.’ 


H 


1 14  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  Let  us  have  a  look  at  your  shoulder-belt.’ 

A  yellow  leather  belt  with  white  pipings  formed  part  of 
the  uniform  of  the  4  National  Gendarmes,’  as  they  used  to 
be  called,  a  recent  law  having  prescribed  the  costume  and  ^ 
regulated  it  down  to  the  smallest  details.  On  the  belt  was 
a  plate  similar  to  the  one  at  present  worn  by  rural  police¬ 
men,  with  the  singular  legend  engraved  duly  upon  it,  1  Re¬ 
spect  individuals  and  property.’  The  cord,  of  course,  had  ^ 
left  a  deep  score  across  the  belt.  Corentin  took  up  the 
coat  and  found  the  place  of  the  missing  button. 

4  When  did  they  pick  you  up  ?  ’  he  asked. 

4  Why,  at  daybreak.’ 

4  Did  they  bring  you  up  here  at  once  ?  ’  continued 
Corentin,  noticing  that  the  bed  had  not  been  slept  in. 

4  Yes.’ 

4  Who  brought  you  up  ?  ’  f 

4  The  women  and  Michu’s  boy;  he  found  me  lying  * 
unconscious.’ 

c  Good  !  ’  thought  Corentin  to  himself.  4  Then  they 
were  up  all  night.  It  is  clear  that  the  corporal  was  not  J 
knocked  off  his  horse  by  a  bullet,  nor  yet  by  a  blow  from 
a  stick ;  for  in  that  case  the  man  that  dealt  the  blow  must 
have  been  on  horseback  and  on  a  level  with  him.  So  he 
must  have  been  disarmed  by  something  put  across  the  road. 
A  piece  of  wood  ?  Impossible.  An  iron  chain  ?  It  would* 
have  left  marks.  What  did  you  feel  ?  ’  he  asked  aloud, 
scrutinising  the  corporal  as  he  spoke. 

4  I  was  knocked  off  so  suddenly - ’ 

cThe  skin  is  grazed  under  your  chin.’  4 

4  It  seems  to  me  that  a  rope  sawed  me  across  the  face.’ 

4 1  have  it,’  said  Corentin.  4  Somebody  tied  a  rope 
across  the  road  to  stop  you - ’ 

4  Very  likely,’  returned  the  corporal.  * 

Corentin  went  down  into  the  kitchen. 

4  Come,  old  scoundrel,  let  us  have  done  with  it !  ’  Michu 
was  saying;  he  spoke  to  Violette,  and  looked  at  the  spy. 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  115 

4  A  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs  in  all,  and  my 
land  is  yours.  I  shall  put  the  money  in  the  funds  and  be 
independent.’ 

4  As  there  is  but  one  God,  I  have  only  sixty  thousand,  I 
tell  you.’ 

4  But  when  I  offer  you  time  for  the  rest !  And  here  we 
have  been  bargaining  since  yesterday  and  cannot  come  to 
terms  !  .  .  .  There  is  no  better  land  anywhere.’ 

4  My  land  is  good,’  retorted  Violette. 

4  Wife,  bring  us  some  wine  !  ’  cried  Michu. 

c  What,  haven’t  you  had  enough  to  drink  ?  ’  called 
Marthe’s  mother.  4  This  is  the  fourteenth  bottle  since 
nine  o’clock  yesterday.’ 

4  Have  you  been  here  since  nine  o’clock  this  morning  ?  ’ 
said  Corentin,  turning  on  Violette. 

c  No,  asking  your  pardon.  I  haven’t  stirred  from  the 
place  since  nine  o’clock  yesterday  night,  and  I  am  none 
the  nearer  the  end.  The  more  he  makes  me  drink,  the 
more  he  wants  for  his  land.’ 

4  In  making  a  bargain,  you  raise  the  price  every  time  you 
raise  your  elbow,’  said  Corentin. 

A  dozen  empty  bottles  at  the  end  of  the  table  bore  out 
the  truth  of  the  old  grandmother’s  statement.  Just  at  that 
moment  the  gendarme  outside  beckoned  to  Corentin. 

4  There  is  no  horse  in  the  stable,’  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
when  they  stood  on  the  threshold.  Corentin  went  in 
again. 

4  You  have  sent  your  boy  to  town  on  horseback,  I  ex¬ 
pect,’  he  remarked,  4  so  he  will  be  back  again  before  long.’ 

4  No,  sir,’  said  Marthe;  c  he  has  gone  on  foot.’ 

4  Well,  then,  what  have  you  done  with  your  horse?’ 

4  Lent  him,’  Michu  answered  curtly. 

4  Come  you  here,  my  good  apostle,’  said  Corentin,  beck¬ 
oning  to  the  bailiff.  4 1  have  a  word  or  two  to  slip  down 
your  ear-tube.’ 

Corentin  and  Michu  went  out  together 


1 1 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

‘That  rifle  that  you  were  loading  yesterday  at  four 
o’clock  was  meant  to  kill  the  State  Councillor.  Grevin 
saw  you,  but  you  cannot  be  nabbed  for  that ;  there  was 
plenty  of  malice  aforethought,  but  witnesses  are  scarce.  t 
You  put  Violette  to  sleep,  I  do  not  know  how,  and  you 
and  your  wife  and  boy  spent  the  night  out  of  doors: 
first,  to  warn  Mademoiselle  Cinq-Cygne  of  our  coming, 
and  afterwards  to  rescue  her  cousins.  You  brought  them  , 
back  here,  I  do  not  know  where  as  yet.  Your  boy  and 
your  wife  brought  down  the  corporal  cleverly  enough.  In 
fact,  you  have  beaten  us.  You  are  a  famous,  fine  fellow. 
But  the  last  word  has  not  been  said,  and  we  shall  not  leave 
you  to  say  it.  Will  you  come  to  terms  ?  Your  masters 
will  not  be  losers  by  it.’ 

4  Come  this  way ;  we  can  talk  without  being  overheard,’ 
returned  Michu  ;  and  he  led  the  spy  as  far  as  the  pond  in  < 
the  park.  When  Corentin  saw  the  sheet  of  water,  he 
looked  Michu  steadily  in  the  eyes.  Michu,  no  doubt, 
counted  on  his  great  physical  strength  to  heave  his  com¬ 
panion  into  seven  feet  of  mud  below  three  feet  of  water. 
Michu  looked  back  at  him  quite  as  steadily.  Just  so  might 
some  tawny-red  Brazilian  jaguar  have  gazed  defiantly  at  a 
cold-blooded,  flaccid  boa-constrictor. 

4  I  am  not  thirsty,’  remarked  Corentin.  He  stood  on 
the  edge  of  the  meadow,  and  his  hand  travelled  down  into 
a  side  pocket  for  the  little  dagger. 

lWe  cannot  come  to  an  understanding,’  Michu  re¬ 
marked  indifferently. 

4  Mind  how  you  behave  yourself,  my  dear  fellow.  Jus¬ 
tice  will  keep  an  eye  on  you.’ 

4  If  Justice  sees  no  better  than  you  do,  nobody  is  safe.’ 

4  Do  you  refuse  ?  ’  Corentin  asked  significantly. 

4 1  would  sooner  have  my  throat  cut  a  hundred  times 
over,  than  have  an  understanding  with  such  a  rascal  as 
you.’ 

Corentin  stepped  briskly  into  the  chaise  after  scanning 


The  Trials  of  the  Police  117 

Michu,  the  lodge,  and  Couraut,  who  barked  after  him 
He  left  orders  of  some  kind  in  Troyes  and  returned  to 
Paris.  Secret  instructions  and  orders  were  issued  to  all 
the  brigades  of  gendarmerie. 

The  search  was  kept  up  diligently  and  unremittingly  in 
every  little  hamlet  through  the  months  of  December,  Janu¬ 
ary,  and  February.  Ears  were  listening  in  every  little  pub¬ 
lic  house.  Three  important  things  Corentin  discovered. 
A  horse  answering  to  the  description  of  Michu’s  nag  was 
found  dead  near  Lagny.  The  five  horses  buried  in  the 
Forest  of  Nodesme  had  been  sold  for  five  hundred  francs 
apiece  by  various  farmers  and  millers  to  a  man  who  evi¬ 
dently  must  have  been  Michu.  When  the  law  was  passed 
against  Georges’s  accomplices  and  those  who  harboured 
them,  Corentin  narrowed  the  police  supervision  to  the 
Forest  of  Nodesme,  and  later,  after  the  arrest  of  Pichegru 
and  Moreau,  the  strange  faces  disappeared  from  the  country¬ 
side. 

By  that  time  Michu  had  lost  his  place.  The  Arcis 
notary  brought  instructions  in  writing  from  State  Coun¬ 
cillor  Malin  (now  a  senator)  authorizing  Grevin  to  re¬ 
ceive  the  bailiff’s  accounts,  and  to  give  him  notice  to  quit. 
In  three  days’  time  Michu  obtained  his  discharge  in  due 
form,  and  became  his  own  master.  To  the  no  small 
astonishment  of  the  country-side,  he  took  up  his  abode  at 
Cinq-Cygne,  and  managed  the  farms  on  all  the  reserves  of 
the  chateau  for  Laurence.  The  day  of  his  installation  was 
the  fatal  day  of  the  Due  d’Enghien’s  execution.  Almost 
all  over  France  men  heard  simultaneously  of  the  Prince’s 
capture,  trial,  sentence,  and  death  ;  the  dreadful  reprisals 
which  preceded  the  trials  of  Polignac,  Riviere,  and  Moreau. 


II 


CORENTIN’S  REVENGE 

A  farm-house  was  to  be  built  for  Michu,  but  in  the 
meantime  the  so-called  Judas  was  lodged  in  the  outbuild¬ 
ing  above  the  stables,  close  to  the  famous  breach  in  the 
fosse.  Michu  bought  two  horses,  one  for  himself  and  one 
for  little  Francois,  for  they,  as  well  as  Gothard,  now  went 
everywhere  with  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne.  People 
think  nowadays  that  she  used  to  take  supplies  to  the  four 
nobles,  and  to  see  that  they  wanted  for  nothing.  Francois 
and  Gothard,  with  Couraut  and  the  Countess’s  hunting 
dogs,  kept  watch  over  the  neighbourhood  of  the  hiding- 
place,  to  make  sure  that  there  was  nobody  within  range, 
while  Laurence  and  Michu  carried  provisions  prepared  by 
Marthe  and  her  mother  to  Catherine  without  the  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  servants.  The  secret  was  known  to  very  few 
persons,  for  not  a  soul  could  doubt  that  there  were  spies  in 
the  village. 

So,  from  motives  of  prudence,  this  expedition  was  never 
made  oftener  than  twice  in  a  week,  and  always  at  different 
hours,  sometimes  in  the  daytime,  sometimes  at  night ;  nor 
did  Laurence  and  Michu  relax  their  vigilance  during  the 
trials  of  Polignac,  Riviere,  and  Moreau.  When  a  decree 
of  the  Senate  called  the  Bonaparte  family  to  the  Imperial 
dignity,  and  Napoleon’s  nomination  as  Emperor  was  sub¬ 
mitted  to  the  French  people,  M.  d’Hauteserre  gave  his 
signature  to  the  memorial  presented  to  him  by  Goulard. 
At  length  it  was  known  that  the  Pope  would  anoint  and 
crown  Napoleon;  and  thenceforth  when  it  was  proposed 

118 


Corentin’s  Revenge  119 

that  the  Simeuses  and  the  young  d’Hauteserres  should 
make  petition  to  be  struck  off  the  List  of  emigres ,  and 
to  recover  their  citizens’  rights,  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
Cygne  made  no  objection. 

Old  d’Hauteserre  hurried  off  to  Paris  forthwith,  and 
obtained  an  interview  with  the  ci-devant  Marquis  de 
Chargeboeuf,  a  personal  acquaintance  of  M.  de  Talley¬ 
rand’s.  The  Prince  de  Talleyrand  was  then  in  favour; 
he  undertook  that  the  petition  should  reach  Josephine,  and 
Josephine  laid  it  before  her  husband.  Bonaparte  was 
already  called  Emperor,  Sire,  and  your  Majesty,  though  the 
results  of  the  ballot  were  not  yet  known.  M.  de  Charge¬ 
boeuf,  M.  d’Hauteserre,  and  the  Abbe  Goujet  (who  like¬ 
wise  had  come  to  Paris)  obtained  audience  of  Talleyrand, 
and  a  promise  of  his  support.  Napoleon  had  already 
pardoned  the  principal  actors  in  the  great  Royalist  con¬ 
spiracy  against  him,  and  the  four  gentlemen  of  the  petition 
were  merely  suspected  of  complicity ;  yet  when  the  Council 
of  State  rose,  the  Emperor  summoned  Malin,  Fouche, 
Talleyrand,  Cambaceres,  Lebrun,  and  Dubois,  the  Prefect 
of  Police,  into  his  cabinet. 

c  Gentlemen,’  began  the  future  Emperor,  still  in  the 
dress  of  the  First  Consul,  c  gentlemen,  we  have  received  a 
memorial  from  the  Sieurs  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre, 
officers  in  the  Army  of  Conde,  praying  for  an  authorisation 
to  return  to  France.’ 

c  They  are  in  France  now,’  said  Fouche. 

c  So  are  hundreds  of  others  that  I  come  across  in  Paris,’ 
remarked  Talleyrand. 

cYou  have  never  come  across  these ,  I  think,’  returned 
Malin,  Tor  they  are  in  hiding  in  the  Forest  of  Nodesme, 
and  feel  quite  at  home  there.’ 

Malin  was  very  careful  not  to  inform  either  the  First 
Consul  or  Fouche  of  those  few  words  that  had  saved  his 
life ;  but  relying  entirely  upon  Corentin’s  reports,  he  con¬ 
vinced  the  Council  that  the  four  nobles  were  implicated  in 


120  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

the  Riviere  and  Polignac  affair,  and  that  Michu  had  been 
privy  to  it.  His  assertions  were  corroborated  by  the 
Prefect  of  Police. 

c  But  how  came  this  bailiff  to  know  that  the  plot  was  « 
discovered,  when  no  one  was  in  the  secret  save  the 
Emperor,  his  councillors,  and  I  myself?’  asked  Dubois, 
but  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  him. 

c  If  they  are  in  hiding  in  a  forest  and  you  have  been  « 
looking  for  them  for  seven  months,’  said  Napoleon,  ad¬ 
dressing  Fouche,  ‘they  have  indeed  expiated  their  sins  !  ’ 

Malin  was  alarmed  by  Dubois’s  clearsightedness.  ‘They 
are  my  personal  enemies,’  he  said ;  ‘  that  is  enough,  I  follow 
your  Majesty’s  example ;  so  I  petition  that  their  names 
may  be  struck  off  the  list,  and  intercede  with  your  Majesty 
for  them.’ 

‘  They  will  be  less  dangerous  for  you  as  citizens  than  as  < 
emigres ,’  observed  Fouche,  looking  steadily  at  Malin;  ‘for 
they  will  take  the  oath  to  uphold  the  Constitution  under 
the  Empire  and  to  obey  the  laws.’ 

‘  In  what  way  are  they  dangerous  to  M.  le  Senateur  ?  ”  J 
asked  Napoleon. 

The  Prince  de  Talleyrand,  on  this,  spoke  for  some  time 
in  a  low  voice  with  the  future  Emperor,  and  to  all  appear¬ 
ance  the  petition  was  granted;  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  and 
d’Hauteserre  were  to  be  struck  out  from  the  List  of 
emigres  and  reinstated  as  citizens. 

c  Sire,’  said  Fouche,  c  you  may  hear  of  them  again.’ 

At  the  instance  of  the  Due  de  Grandlieu,  Talleyrand  had 
promised  on  behalf  of  the  four  young  men,  that  on  the 
honour  of  a  noble  —  a  formula  which  exerted  a  great 
influence  over  Napoleon — they  would  attempt  nothing 
against  the  Emperor,  and  make  their  submission  without 
reservation. 

‘The  MM.  d’Hauteserre  and  de  Simeuse  have  no 
wish  to  bear  arms  against  France  after  the  recent  events. 
They  have  not  much  sympathy  with  the  Imperial  Gov- 


Corentin’s  Revenge  121 

ernment ;  they  are  people  whom  your  Majesty  must  win 
over ;  but  they  will  be  content  to  live  as  law-abiding 
citizens  on  French  soil,’  said  the  Minister.  And  he 
laid  a  letter  expressing  these  views  before  Napoleon’s 
eyes. 

c  Anything  so  outspoken  must  be  sincere,’  said  the 
Emperor,  glancing  at  Cambaceres  and  Lebrun.  c  Have  you 
any  objections  left  ?  ’  he  added,  turning  to  Fouche. 

<■  In  your  Majesty’s  interests,  I  ask  permission  to  send 
these  gentlemen  the  formal  announcement  of  the  erasure 
of  their  names,’  replied  the  future  Minister  of  Police, 
adding  aloud,  ‘when  it  shall  be  definitely  granted, 

c  So  be  it,’  said  Napoleon.  He  thought  that  Fouche 
looked  dissatisfied. 

So  the  little  council  broke  up,  and  the  affair  apparently 
was  not  at  an  end ;  one  result  of  it  was  that  a  vague 
suspicion  was  associated  with  the  names  of  the  exiles  in 
Napoleon’s  memory. 

M.  d’Hauteserre,  sure  of  success,  had  written  home  to 
tell  the  good  news,  and  the  inmates  of  Cinq-Cygne  con¬ 
sequently  were  not  surprised  when  Goulard  came  a  few 
days  later  to  bid  Madame  d’Hauteserre  and  Laurence  send 
the  exiles  to  Troyes,  where  the  Prefect  would  take  their 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Empire  and  the  laws,  and  hand 
over  the  decree  which  reinstated  them  in  their  civic  rights* 
Laurence  told  the  mayor  that  she  would  send  notice  to  her 
cousins  and  the  two  d’Hauteserres. 

c  Then  they  are  not  here  ?  ’  remarked  Goulard. 

Madame  d’Hauteserre  looked  up  with  an  anxious  face  as 
Laurence  left  the  mayor  and  went  to  take  counsel  with 
Michu.  Michu  saw  no  objection  to  the  immediate  en¬ 
largement  of  the  exiles  \  so  Laurence,  with  the  Michus  and 
Gothard,  rode  out  into  the  forest,  taking  an  extra  horse 
with  them,  for  the  Countess  meant  to  accompany  her 
cousins  to  Troyes,  and  afterwards  home  to  the  chateau. 
All  the  servants  heard  the  good  news,  and  were  out 


122  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

upon  the  lawn  to  watch  the  departure  of  the  happy 
cavalcade. 

The  four  young  men  left  their  hiding-place,  mounted 
their  horses  without  being  seen,  and  took  the  road  to  ^ 
Troyes,  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  riding  with  them. 
Michu,  meanwhile,  with  Gothard  and  Francois  to  help 
him,  blocked  up  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  the  three 
returned  on  foot ;  but  on  the  way  it  occurred  to  Michu  4 
that  the  spoons  and  forks  and  a  silver  goblet  which  his 
masters  had  in  use  had  been  forgotten.  He  went  back 
alone  to  look  for  them. 

He  had  reached  the  margin  of  the  pool,  when  he  heard 
voices  in  the  hole,  and  went  straight  to  the  opening  among 
the  bushes. 

4  You  have  come  back  to  look  for  your  plate,  no  doubt !  ’ 

It  was  Peyrade’s  voice;  it  was  Peyrade’s  big  red  face  * 
grinning  at  him  through  the  leaves. 

A  sudden  pang  seemed  to  shoot  through  every  joint  in 
Michu’s  body,  so  intense  was  the  vague,  indefinite  fore¬ 
boding,  the  premonition  of  coming  trouble ;  he  could  not  4 
account  for  it ;  the  young  Simeuses  were  in  safety  at  last. 
He  came  forward,  however,  and  met  Corentin  on  the  steps 
with  a  tallow  dip  in  his  hand. 

4  We  are  not  spiteful,’  said  this  person;  c  we  might  have 
nabbed  your  ci-devants  a  week  ago,  but  we  knew  their 
names  were  taken  off  the  List.  .  .  .  You  are  an  uncom¬ 
monly  knowing  dog !  And  you  gave  us  so  much  trouble 
that  at  least  we  must  satisfy  our  curiosity.’ 

4 1  would  give  something  to  know  for  how  much  we  1 
were  sold  and  who  sold  us,’  cried  Michu. 

4  If  that  tickles  your  curiosity  so  much,  my  boy,’  said 
Peyrade,  with  a  smile,  4  look  at  your  horses’  shoes,  and  you 
will  see  that  you  have  betrayed  yourselves.’ 

4  No  malice,’  added  Corentin,  beckoning  the  captain  of 
gendarmes  to  come  up  with  the  horses. 

4  That  miserable  smith  from  Paris  who  shod  horses  so 


Corentin’s  Revenge  123 

well  in  the  English  fashion,  and  has  left  Cinq-Cygne  since, 
was  in  their  pay,’  exclaimed  Michu.  c  They  had  only  to 
send  one  of  their  people,  disguised  as  a  faggot-cutter  or 
a  poacher,  to  follow  up  the  tracks  of  our  horses  when  it 
was  damp,  after  the  man  had  put  those  nails  in  the  shoes. 
We  are  quits.’ 

Michu  pretty  soon  took  comfort ;  he  bethought  himself 
that  now,  when  the  gentlemen  were  Frenchmen  again  and 
at  liberty,  the  discovery  of  the  hiding-place  could  do  them 
no  harm.  And  yet  his  forebodings  were  well  founded. 
The  police  and  the  Jesuits  have  this  virtue  —  they  never 
forget  their  friends  nor  their  enemies. 

Old  d’Hauteserre  came  back  from  Paris,  and  not  a  little 
surprised  was  he  to  find  the  good  news  arrived  before  him. 
Durieu  made  ready  the  most  succulent  of  dinners.  The 
servants  wore  their  best  clothes ;  the  whole  household 
waited  impatiently  for  the  exiles,  and  towards  four  o’clock 
they  came  home,  joyful  yet  humiliated,  for  they  were  to 
be  under  the  supervision  of  the  police  authorities  for  two 
years.  The  whole  of  that  time  they  must  be  resident  in 
the  commune  of  Cinq-Cygne,  while  they  were  bound  to 
report  themselves  every  month  at  the  prefecture. 

c  I  will  send  you  the  register  to  sign,’  the  Prefect  had 
said.  c  Then  in  a  few  months’  time  you  can  make  applica¬ 
tion  for  a  remission  of  the  conditions,  which  were  imposed 
at  the  same  time  on  all  Pichegru’s  accomplices.  I  will 
support  your  demand.’ 

These  restrictions,  though  well  enough  merited,  had  a 
little  damped  the  young  people’s  spirits.  But  Laurence 
burst  out  laughing. 

cThe  Emperor  of  the  French,’  she  said,  cwas  not  very 
well  brought  up ;  he  is  not  accustomed  yet  to  pardon.’ 

When  the  party  reached  the  iron  gate,  they  found  every 
one  from  the  chateau  there  to  meet  them,  as  well  as  a 
goodly  proportion  of  the  folk  from  the  village  waiting 
upon  the  road  to  see  the  young  nobles ;  for  the  fame  of 


124  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

their  adventures  filled  the  department.  Madame  d’Haute- 
serre  held  her  sons  for  a  long  time  in  her  arms ;  it  was 
a  tearful  face  that  she  turned  upon  them  all ;  she  could 
say  nothing,  and  sat,  overcome  but  happy,  for  a  good  while  ^ 
that  evening. 

As  soon  as  the  twin  brothers  appeared  and  dismounted, 
there  was  a  general  cry  of  surprise,  so  astonishingly  alike 
were  they,  —  the  same  expression,  the  same  voice,  the  same  ✓ 
tricks  of  manner.  They  rose  in  the  saddle,  flung  a  leg 
over  the  crupper,  and  threw  back  the  bridle,  to  dismount 
as  if  by  one  accord ;  and  seemed  the  more  like  a  genuine 
pair  of  Menechmes  because  they  were  dressed  exactly  alike. 
They  wore  boots  a  la  Suwaroff,  fitting  closely  over  the 
instep  ;  tight,  white  doeskin  breeches,  green  shooting  jackets 
with  metal  buttons,  black  cravats,  and  doeskin  gloves.  They 
were  c  charming  cavaliers/  as  the  saying  went  in  those  , 
days,  were  these  two  young  men  of  thirty-one.  Of  average 
height,  but  well  set-up,  they  had  shapely  foreheads,  dark  hair, 
swarthy  pale  faces,  and  bright  eyes,  liquid  as  the  eyes  of 
children,  beneath  the  fringe  of  long  lashes.  Their  speech,  * 
gentle  as  a  woman’s,  fell  graciously  from  their  shapely  red 
lips.  Their  manners,  finer  and  more  polished  than  the 
manners  of  the  country  noblesse,  showed  that  a  knowledge 
of  men  and  the  world  had  been  for  them  a  second  educa¬ 
tion,  more  important  even  than  the  first  in  the  making  of 
an  accomplished  gentleman. 

Thanks  to  Michu  they  had  never  wanted  money ;  they 
had  been  able  to  travel,  they  had  been  well  received  at 
foreign  courts.  Old  M.  d’Hauteserre  and  the  abbe  thought  1 
their  manner  somewhat  lofty,  but  in  their  position  this  was 
perhaps  the  result  of  a  lofty  nature.  And  while  in  many 
little  ways  it  was  evident  that  they  had  received  a  careful 
education,  they  excelled  also  in  all  physical  exercises. 

The  only  difference  that  could  be  seen  in  them  was  a 
difference  of  temperament.  The  gayety  of  the  younger 
was  as  charming  as  the  tinge  of  melancholy  in  the  older 


Corentin’s  Revenge  125 

brother;  but  even  this  contrast  was  one  simply  of  mental 
attitude,  and  only  perceptible  after  a  long  intimacy. 

c  Ah  !  my  girl,’  Michu  said  in  Marthe’s  ear,  c  how  could 
one  help  being  devoted  to  those  two  lads  ?  ’ 

And  Marthe,  looking  with  eyes  of  feminine  and  moth¬ 
erly  admiration,  gave  her  husband  a  charming  little  nod 
and  squeezed  his  hand.  The  servants  were  permitted 
to  embrace  their  new  masters. 

Many  times  during  the  seven  months  of  hiding,  the 
four  gentlemen  had  walked  abroad ;  it  was  a  piece  of 
necessary  imprudence ;  and  Michu,  his  son,  and  Gothard 
were  always  on  the  watch.  During  those  walks,  by  the 
light  of  starlit  nights,  Laurence  had  connected  the  present 
with  the  past  of  their  common  life,  and  felt  the  impossi¬ 
bility  of  choosing  between  the  brothers.  An  unselfish 
love  for  them  both  was  equally  strong  in  her.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  two  hearts.  And  Marie  Paul  and  Paul 
Marie  had  not  dared  to  speak  of  the  now  imminent  rivalry. 
Perhaps,  as  yet,  all  three  of  them  had  left  chance  to  de¬ 
cide  ;  but  Laurence  evidently  felt  the  position  of  their 
minds,  for  after  an  instant  of  visible  hesitation  she  gave 
an  arm  to  both  brothers  and  went  towards  the  salon, 
followed  by  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  who 
clung  about  their  sons,  plying  them  with  questions.  The 
servants  sent  up  a  shout  of  c  Long  live  the  Cinq-Cygnes 
and  the  Simeuses  !  ’ 

And  Laurence,  standing  between  the  brothers,  turned 
to  thank  them  with  a  charming  gesture. 

When  these  nine  people  began  to  observe  one  another 
—  for  after  every  meeting  even  of  members  of  the  same 
family,  the  time  comes  when  they  all  begin  to  notice  the 
changes  made  by  long  absence  —  Adrien’s  first  glance  at 
Laurence  made  it  clear  to  his  mother  and  the  abbe,  who 
happened  to  see  it,  that  the  young  man  was  in  love  with 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne.  Adrien  was  the  younger 


1 26  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

d’Hauteserre.  His  nature  was  gentle  and  kindly,  and  in 
spite  of  the  catastrophes  that  had  tried  the  man,  he  had 
still  a  boy’s  heart.  In  this  respect  he  was  like  a  great 
many  military  men ;  a  life  of  continual  peril  leaves  no 
space  for  love  ;  and  the  bashfulness  that  becomes  youth 
so  well,  weighed  upon  the  man  of  thirty.  Adrien  was  a 
complete  contrast  to  his  brother,  a  rough-looking  man, 
a  mighty  hunter  and  valorous  soldier,  resolute  but  heavy 
and  matter-of-fact,  lacking  in  mental  quickness  as  in 
refinement  of  feeling.  The  life  of  the  one  was  contem¬ 
plative,  that  of  the  other  active ;  yet  both  were  men  of 
honour  according  to  their  rank  in  life0 

Yet  Adrien  d’Hauteserre,  dark-haired,  short,  slight,  and 
spare,  gave  the  impression  of  great  strength,  while  his  tall, 
big,  fair-haired  brother  looked  like  a  weakling.  Adrien 
was  of  nervous  temperament ;  he  possessed  strength  of 
soul,  while  his  lymphatic  brother  Robert  delighted  in 
trials  of  muscular  force.  Interesting  though  it  might 
be  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  a  freak  of  nature  not 
unfrequently  seen  in  family  histories,  the  fact  can  merely 
be  touched  upon  here  by  way  of  explanation  of  the  fact 
that  Adrien  had  no  rival  to  fear  in  his  brother. 

Robert’s  feeling  toward  Laurence  was  made  up  of  a 
cousin’s  affection  and  a  noble’s  respect  for  a  young  woman 
belonging  to  his  own  order.  As  for  his  manner  of  regard¬ 
ing  women,  Robert  d’Hauteserre  belonged  to  that  section 
of  mankind  who  hold  that  woman  is  a  kind  of  appendage 
to  man,  and  that  the  function  of  maternity  is  purely  physi¬ 
cal.  They  look  for  physical  perfections  in  full  measure, 
and  count  a  woman  as  naught.  To  consider  a  woman  as 
anything  but  a  cipher  socially,  politically,  and  in  the  family, 
according  to  these  authorities,  would  turn  society  upside 
down.  In  these  days  we  have  travelled  so  far  from  the 
views  held  by  society  in  its  primitive  state,  that  even 
though  a  woman  may  not  wish  for  the  insidious  liberty 
offered  her  by  diverse  new  sects,  she  may  well  be  scandalised 


Corentin’s  Revenge  127 

■ 

by  such  opinions;  but  Robert  d’Hauteserre  had  the  mis¬ 
fortune  to  hold  them.  Robert  belonged  to  the  Dark  Ages  ; 
Adrien  to  the  Nineteenth  Century.  These  differences,  so 
far  from  estranging  the  brothers,  drew  them  more  closely 
together.  The  cure,  Mademoiselle  Goujet,  and  Madame 
d’Hauteserre  discerned  and  grasped  the  significance  of 
the  shades  of  character  in  the  course  of  the  evening 
over  their  game  at  boston.  Even  now  they  saw  difficul¬ 
ties  ahead. 

At  twenty-three  years  of  age,  after  a  life  of  solitary 
thought,  after  the  anguish  of  the  failure  of  a  vast  political 
project,  Laurence  became  a  woman  again.  She  felt  a  great 
craving  for  affection;  she  brought  all  the  charm  of  her 
mind  into  play;  she  was  enchanting  with  the  unconscious¬ 
ness  of  a  girl  of  fifteen ;  she  showed  how  fascinating  she 
could  be  in  her  tenderness.  For  the  last  thirteen  years 
she  had  been  a  woman  only  through  a  woman’s  suffering. 
Now  the  lost  years  should  be  made  good  for  her.  She 
would  show  herself  loving  and  coquettish,  as  hitherto  she 
had  been  strong  and  great. 

The  four  old  people  stayed  on  in  the  salon  till  every 
one  else  had  gone,  and  shook  their  heads  over  this  new 
phase  in  a  charming  maiden.  What  possibilities  of  pas¬ 
sion  might  there  not  be  in  a  girl  of  her  temper  and  nobility  ? 
Both  brothers  loved  the  same  woman  equally  well  and 
equally  blindly.  Which  of  the  two  would  Laurence 
choose?  Would  the  other  die  of  a  broken  heart? 

Laurence  was  a  countess  in  her  own  right.  She  would 
bring  her  husband  a  title,  great  privileges,  an  old  illustri¬ 
ous  name.  Perhaps  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse,  remembering 
this,  would  sacrifice  himself  for  the  sake  of  his  brother,  a 
I  poor  and  untitled  younger  son  by  the  old  law.  But  would 
the  younger  consent  to  accept  the  sacrifice  of  so  great 
a  happiness  as  the  right  of  calling  Laurence  his  wife  ? 

!  While  they  were  at  a  distance,  there  were  few  drawbacks 
|  to  the  rivalry,  and,  moreover,  the  brothers’  lives  were  so 


128  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

often  in  danger,  that  the  hazards  of  war  might  cut  the  " 
knot  at  any  time.  But  what  might  be  looked  for  now 
that  the  three  were  together  ?  Marie  Paul  and  Paul 
Marie  had  reached  an  age  when  passion  grows  in  strength 
by  all  the  forces  of  a  man’s  nature.  Could  they  share 
their  fair  cousin’s  looks,  glances,  words,  and  attentions,  and 
not  break  out  into  jealousy  that  might  bring  fearful  results 
to  pass  ?  What  would  be  the  end  of  the  pleasant  life  that 
they  led  together  ? 

To  these  suggestions,  brought  up  one  by  one  over  the  last 
game  of  boston,  Madame  d’Hauteserre  had  her  answer  :  she 
did  not  believe  that  Laurence  would  marry  either  of  her 
cousins.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  the  old  gentlewoman 
felt  one  of  the  inexplicable  presentiments  which  remain  a 
secret  between  mothers  and  God.  And  Laurence’s  con¬ 
science  felt  no  less  dismay  over  this  tete-a-tete  with  her 
cousins.  To  the  exciting  drama  of  the  plot,  to  the  days 
when  their  lives  were  in  danger,  to  the  years  of  adversity 
and  emigration,  another  drama  had  succeeded,  a  drama  of 
which  she  had  never  thought.  Her  noble  nature  shrank 
from  the  abrupt  measure  of  refusing  both  the  twins ;  she 
was  too  honest  a  woman  to  marry  another  and  to  bear  an 
irresistible  passion  in  the  depths  of  her  heart.  To  remain 
unmarried,  to  weary  out  her  cousins  with  delay,  and  then 
to  take  as  her  husband  the  one  that  loved  her  faithfully  in 
spite  of  her  caprices  —  this  was  a  conclusion  not  so  much  de¬ 
liberately  chosen  as  dimly  foreseen.  As  Laurence  fell  asleep 
she  told  herself  that  the  wisest  way  was  to  leave  fate  to 
settle  her  affairs.  In  love,  chance  is  a  woman’s  providence. 
"j\  Next  morning  Michu  started  for  Paris,  and  a  few  days 
later  returned  with  four  fine  horses  for  his  new  masters. 
The  shooting  would  begin  in  six  weeks’  time;  and  the 
young  Countess  thought,  not  without  reason,  that  sport 
with  its  absorbing  interests  would  provide  relief  from  the 
difficulties  of  the  tete-a-tete  at  the  chateau.  The  first 
result  was  quite  unexpected ;  it  surprised  the  onlookers  at 


Corentin’s  Revenge  129 

this  strange  love-affair  while  it  roused  their  admiration. 
Without  any  deliberate  agreement,  the  two  brothers  vied 
with  each  other  in  affectionate  attentions;  they  seemed  to 
find  satisfaction  in  these  pleasures  of  the  soul.  They  were 
as  fraternal  with  Laurence  as  with  each  other.  Nothing 
more  natural.  After  so  long  an  absence  they  both  felt  that 
they  must  learn  to  know  their  cousin,  and  give  her  time  to 
know  them  both,  while  they  left  her  free  to  make  her 
choice.  The  affection  that  made  but  one  life  of  two  lives 
sustained  them  through  this  ordeal.  Love  even  as  mother¬ 
hood  seemed  as  if  it  could  know  no  distinction  between  the 
brothers.  Laurence  was  obliged  to  give  them  different 
cravats  to  know  them,  a  white  one  for  the  elder  and  black 
for  the  younger.  But  for  this  complete  resemblance,  this 
identity  of  life  which  deceived  all  beholders,  such  a  situa¬ 
tion  would  seem,  and  rightly  seem,  impossible.  It  is,  in 
fact,  inexplicable  until  it  happens ;  it  is  one  of  those  things 
that  nobody  can  believe  until  they  see  it,  and  once  seen,  it 
requires  even  more  mental  effort  to  explain  it  than  to 
believe  it. 

If  Laurence  spoke,  her  voice  vibrated  in  the  same  fashion 
through  two  hearts,  both  alike  loving  and  true.  If  she  said 
anything  ingenious  or  amusing  her  eyes  met  a  glad  response 
in  other  eyes  that  followed  her  every  movement  and  inter¬ 
preted  her  lightest  wish ;  eyes  that  always  smiled  on  her 
with  a  new  expression  of  gayety  or  of  tender  melancholy. 

Where  the  woman  they  loved  was  concerned,  both  the 
brothers  showed  that  wonderful  spontaneous  impulse  of 
heart  and  action  in  harmony  with  the  impulse,  which,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  Abbe  Goujet,  reached  the  sublime.  Often, 
for  instance,  if  something  was  sought  for,  or  if  there  was 
a  question  of  one  of  the  little  services  that  a  man  is  eager 
to  perform  for  the  woman  he  loves,  the  elder  brother  would 
yield  to  the  younger  with  a  half-proud,  half-pathetic  glance 
at  his  cousin ;  and  the  younger  made  it  a  point  of  honour 
to  repay  debts  of  this  kind. 


I 


i jo  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

v 

This  generous  rivalry  in  a  sentiment  which  sometimes 
reduces  a  man  to  the  jealous  ferocity  of  the  brute,  com¬ 
pletely  confused  the  ideas  of  the  old  people  who  were 
watching  them.  _  , 

Little  things  like  these  often  brought  the  tears  into 
Laurence’s  eyes.  Perhaps  it  is  possible  to  give  an  idea  of 
her  feelings,  by  recalling  an  experience  that  makes  an 
immense  impression  upon  more  highly  endowed  organisa-  t 
tions,  —  the  memory  of  two  beautiful  voices  singing 
together  in  perfect  harmony.  When  Sontag  and  Mali- 
bran,  for  instance,  sing  in  a  duet,  and  that  instrument,  the 
human  voice,  is  controlled  by  the  genius  of  a  great  execu¬ 
tant,  then  the  two  parts  are  blended  in  a  single  melody, 
and  it  is  as  if  the  sighs  of  one  impassioned  being  were 
borne  in  upon  the  soul.  Sometimes  the  Marquis  de 
Simeuse,  from  the  depths  of  a  great  arm-chair,  would  turn 
his  intent  melancholy  gaze  upon  the  younger  brother,  who 
was  laughing  and  talking  with  Laurence  ;  and  to  the  cure, 
watching  him,  it  seemed,  at  such  times,  that  this  was  a 
man  capable  of  some  great  act  of  self-sacrifice.  And  then 
again,  before  long,  he  caught  the  gleam  of  unconquerable 
passion  in  the  Marquis’s  eyes.  If  either  of  the  brothers 
chanced  to  be  with  Laurence,  he  might  easily  believe  that 
he  alone  was  loved. 

‘  It  seems  to  me  when  one  is  away,  that  they  are  but 
one,’  said  the  Countess,  when  the  abbe  questioned  her  as  to 
her  feelings.  And  then  the  abbe  knew  that  coquetry  was 
utterly  lacking  in  Laurence.  She  could  not  realise  that 
two  men  loved  her. 

‘  But,  my  dear  little  girl,  you  really  must  make  up  your 
mind  sometime,’  Madame  d’Hauteserre  remonstrated  one 
evening,  —  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  whose  son  was  silently 
dying  of  love  for  Laurence. 

‘  Let  us  be  happy  !  ’  the  girl  answered.  ‘  God  will  save 
us  from  ourselves.’ 

Adrien  d’Hauteserre  locked  his  gnawing  jealousy  into 


Corentin’s  Revenge  13 1 

the  depths  of  his  heart,  and  kept  his  pain  to  himself.  He 
knew  how  little  hope  there  was  for  him.  He  was  con¬ 
tent  to  watch  this  charming  girl,  and  indeed,  during  those 
months  of  suspense,  Laurence  shone  radiantly.  She  had 
grown  bewitching,  she  took  all  the  pains  to  please  that 
a  woman  takes  when  she  is  loved.  She  followed  the 
fashions.  More  than  once  she  made  a  hasty  journey  to 
Paris  to  appear  lovelier  than  before  in  new  clothes  or 
finery.  And,  finally,  she  would  give  her  cousins  even  the 
least  pleasures  of  that  sense  of  being  at  home  to  which 
they  had  so  long  been  strangers,  and,  in  spite  of  loud  out¬ 
cries  from  her  guardian,  she  turned  the  chateau  into  the 
most  comfortable  place  of  residence  in  Champagne  at  that 
time. 

Robert  d’Hauteserre  understood  nothing  of  all  this 
drama  beneath  the  surface.  He  did  not  see  that  his 
brother  loved  Laurence.  He  liked  to  rally  his  cousin  on 
her  coquetry,  for  he  confused  that  detestable  defect  with 
a  desire  to  please;  but  Robert  was  equally  obtuse  in  all 
matters  of  taste  and  feeling  and  culture.  So  when  the 
representative  of  the  Dark  Ages  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
Laurence  at  once  made  him  take  the  part  of  clown  in  the 
play.  Nor  did  he  suspect  this.  She  amused  her  cousins 
by  drawing  Robert  into  a  discussion,  and  leading  him  on 
insidiously  till  he  floundered  into  the  marsh  where  dulness 
and  ignorance  sink  deeper  at  every  step.  She  excelled  in 
the  ingenious  mystifications  which,  to  be  perfect,  must 
leave  the  victim  quite  satisfied  with  himself.  And  yet, 
during  those  pleasant  days,  the  one  really  happy  period  in 
the  lives  of  the  three  charming  young  people,  Robert, 
coarse  though  his  nature  was,  never  interfered  between 
the  Simeuses  and  Laurence,  with  some  virile,  trenchant 
word  which  might  have  decided  the  question.  The  sin¬ 
cerity  of  the  brothers  impressed  him.  And  he  guessed, 
no  doubt,  that  a  woman  might  hesitate  before  showing  a 
sign  of  preference  for  the  one,  when  the  other  must  be 


1 32 


A  Gondreville  Mystery- 


pained  by  it ;  when  one  brother  was  made  happy  at  the 
expense  of  the  other.  This  forbearance  on  Robert  s  part 
is  an  admirable  comment  upon  a  situation,  which  would 
certainly  have  been  a  case  referred  to  the  higher  powers,  J 
in  the  ages  of  faith  when  the  sovereign  pontiff  had 
power  to  intervene  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot  in  so  phenom¬ 
enal  a  conjuncture,  so  well-nigh  inscrutable  a  mystery- 
The  Revolution  had  disciplined  the  three  in  the  Catholic  A 
faith,  and  religion  increased  the  gravity  of  the  crisis ;  for 
it  is  greatness  of  character  that  makes  a  great  situation, 
and  neither  Monsieur  nor  Madame  d’Hauteserre  nor  the 
Goujets  looked  for  anything  common  or  mean  from 
Laurence  or  the  Simeuses. 

The  drama  was  a  secret  kept  within  the  family  circle. 
So  absorbed  were  they  all  in  watching  its  slow  yet  swift 
progress,  the  succession  of  unlooked-for  joys,  little  contests, 
fallacious  preferences,  disappointments,  cruel  suspense,  ex¬ 
planations  delayed  till  the  morrow,  and  mute  declarations 
of  love,  that  the  coronation  of  Napoleon  passed  quite  un¬ 
heeded  by  the  inmates  of  Cinq-Cygne.  And  besides,  they 
had  found  a  truce  from  passion  in  the  strenuous  pleasures 
of  the  chase.  Excessive  physical  fatigue  prevented  perilous 
excursions  into  the  wide  fields  of  dreamlan  .  eit  er 
Laurence  nor  her  cousins  gave  a  thought  to  politics ;  every 
day  had  palpitating  interests  of  its  own. 

c  Really,’  Mademoiselle  Goujet  remarked  one  evening, 

( of  all  these  lovers  I  cannot  tell  which  loves  the  best . 

Adrien  happened  to  be  in  the  room  with  the  boston 
players ;  he  looked  up  at  the  words  and  the  colour  died 
out  of  his  face.  Lately  it  had  only  been  the  joy  of  seeing 
Laurence  and  of  hearing  her  voice  that  bound  him  to  life. 

‘  In  my  opinion,’  said  the  cure,  ‘the  Countess,  as  a 
woman,  loves  with  much  less  reserve.  , 

A  few  minutes  later  Laurence  came  in  with  the  two 
Simeuses  and  Robert  d’Hauteserre.  The  newspapers  had 
just  arrived.  Now  that  conspiracies  had  failed  at  home, 


Corentin’s  Revenge  133 

England,  plotting  abroad,  was  bringing  Europe  into  a  league 
against  France.  The  Emperor  had  meant  to  repay  France 
for  his  election  by  the  ruin  of  the  English  power,  but  the 
disastrous  battle  of  Trafalgar  overturned  the  most  tremen¬ 
dous  schemes  ever  planned  by  human  genius.  The  camp 
at  Boulogne  was  broken  up.  Napoleon’s  armies,  inferior 
as  always  in  point  of  numbers,  were  about  to  give  battle  to 
Europe  on  new  ground.  The  whole  world  was  wondering 
what  the  result  of  the  campaign  would  be. 

‘Oh  !  this  time  he  will  be  beaten,’  said  Robert,  when  he 
had  read  the  newspaper  through. 

c  He  has  all  Russia  and  Austria  on  his  hands,’  remarked 
Marie  Paul. 

4  He  has  never  manoeuvred  troops  in  Germany,’  added 
Paul  Marie. 

4  Of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?  ’  asked  Laurence. 

4  Of  the  Emperor,’  replied  all  three. 

Laurence  gave  her  lovers  a  disdainful  glance  that  left 
them  crestfallen,  while  it  sent  Adrien  into  a  rapture  of  joy. 
The  slighted  suitor  made  a  gesture  of  admiration  ;  the  proud 
look  on  his  face  said  plainly  enough  that  he  had  no  thoughts 
now  save  for  Laurence. 

4  So,  you  see,  love  has  made  him  forget  his  hate,’  the 
Abbe  Goujet  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

This  was  the  first,  the  last,  and  only  reproach  that  the 
brothers  incurred,  but  at  that  moment  they  were  convicted 
of  an  inferiority  in  love  compared  with  their  cousin  Lau¬ 
rence,  who  only  heard  the  wonderful  tidings  of  Austerlitz 
two  months  afterwards,  through  an  argument  between  old 
d’Hauteserre  and  his  sons.  For  old  M.  d’Hauteserre,  con¬ 
sistent  in  his  schemes,  wished  his  boys  to  ask  to  serve  under 
the  Emperor ;  they  would,  no  doubt,  take  their  rank  on 
entering  the  service,  and  a  chance  of  a  splendid  career  was 
still  open  to  them.  But  the  pure  Royalist  party  was  the 
stronger  at  Cinq-Cygne.  Laurence  and  the  four  younger 
men  laughed  at  the  prudent  old  man,  who  seemed  to  scent 


1^4  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

coming  misfortune.  Possibly  prudence  is  not  so  much  a 
virtue  as  a  kind  of  intellectual  sense,  if  it  be  possible  to  put 
those  words  together;  but  the  day  will  surely  come  when 
physiologists  and  philosophers  will  admit  that  the  senses 
are,  in  a  manner,  the  sheath  of  a  vivid  and  penetrating  pro¬ 
jection  of  the  intelligence. 

After  the  conclusion  of  peace  between  France  and 
Austria  toward  the  end  of  February,  1806,  a  relative  of  c 
the  families  came  over  to  Cinq-Cygne.  This  was  the 
ci-devant  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf,  owner  of  an  estate  in 
the  Seine-et-Marne  with  outlying  lands  in  the  Aube.  The 
Marquis  had  exerted  himself  on  behalf  of  his  relatives  at 
the  time  of  the  application  to  be  taken  off  the  List  of 
emigres ;  at  a  later  time  he  was  to  give  them  further  proof 
of  his  attachment.  The  family  at  the  chateau  were  break¬ 
fasting  when  the  Marquis  arrived  in  a  kind  of  caleche  . 
derisively  called  a  berlingot  in  those  days.  They  burst  into 
a  fit  of  laughter  as  the  shabby  carriage  came  along  the 
narrow,  paved  road ;  but  when  the  old  man  s  bald  head 
was  thrust  out  from  between  the  leather  curtains,  M. 
d’Hauteserre  exclaimed  that  it  was  the  Marquis  de  Charge¬ 
boeuf;  and  they  all  rose  from  the  table  to  pay  their  re¬ 
spects  to  the  head  of  the  house. 

C  We  are  to  blame  for  allowing  our  relative  to  be  before¬ 
hand  with  us,’  said  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse,  addressing 
his  brother  and  the  d’Hauteserres.  ‘We  ought  to  go  out 

to  thank  him.’  ; 

The  servant  on  the  box-seat,  a  man  in  ordinary  peasant  s 
dress,  stuck  a  waggoner’s  whip  into  a  cumbrous  leather 
tube,  and  went  round  to  assist  the  Marquis  to  alight; 
but  Adrien  and  the  younger  Simeuse  were  there  before 
him.  They  undid  the  brass  handles  of  the  door,  and  helped 
him  to  descend,  in  spite  of  protests.  The  Marquis  was 
wont  to  maintain  that  his  yellow  berlingot  with  its  leather 
door  was  an  excellent  and  commodious  vehicle.  Mean¬ 
while  the  servant  with  Gothard’s  help  had  unharnessed 


Corentin’s  Revenge  135 

the  horses,  —  a  pair  of  heavy,  sturdy  beasts  with  sleek 
hind  quarters,  equally  accustomed,  no  doubt,  to  work  on 
the  land  or  on  the  road. 

‘In  spite  of  the  cold?  Why,  you  show  the  prowess 
of  a  knight  of  ancient  days,’  said  Laurence,  leading  her 
aged  relative  into  the  salon. 

‘  It  is  not  your  place  to  come  to  see  an  old  fogy  like 
ne,’  he  said, —  a  delicate  way  of  insinuating  a  reproach. 

‘What  brings  him  here?’  old  d’Hauteserre  privately 
wondered. 

M.  de  Chargeboeuf,  a  neat,  little,  elderly  gentleman  of 
sixty-seven,  wore  powder,  pigeon’s  wings,  and  a  bag-wig. 
His  thin  legs  were  encased  in  ribbed  stockings  and  light- 
coloured  small-clothes ;  his  green  cloth  shooting-coat  was 
adorned  with  gold  buttons  and  frogs,  and  his  white 
waistcoat  was  dazzling  with  its  portentous  quantity  of 
gold  embroidery.  A  costume  still  worn  in  1805  by  elderly 
people  harmonised  well  with  a  countenance  not  unlike 
that  of  the  great  Frederick.  The  Marquis  never  wore 
his  cocked  hat  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  demi-lune  of 
powder  on  his  head.  He  leant  his  right  hand  on  a  hooked 
walking-cane,  holding  both  hat  and  cane  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  le  Grand  Monarque . 

This  worthy  gentleman  divested  himself  of  a  wadded 
silk  gown,  and  sank  into  the  depths  of  an  easy-chair.  His 
cane  and  cocked  hat  he  held  between  his  knees.  None 
but  the  roues  of  the  court  of  Louis  Quinze  ever  possessed 
the  secret  of  the  attitude  which  left  the  hands  free  to  toy 
with  the  snuff-box,  always  a  valuable  trinket.  And,  in 
fact,  the  Marquis  now  produced  a  very  handsome  snuff-box 
from  a  waistcoat  pocket  closed  by  a  flap  covered  with  gold 
scroll-work;  and  while  he  offered  snuff  with  a  gracious 
gesture  and  benign  expression,  and  prepared  a  pinch,  he 
had  time  to  see,  in  the  first  place,  that  his  visit  gave  his 
relatives  genuine  pleasure,  and  in  the  second,  to  under¬ 
stand  why  the  emigres  had  been  remiss.  4  When  people 


136  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

make  love,  they  forget  to  pay  visits/  his  face  seemed  to 
say. 

4  We  are  going  to  keep  you  for  a  few  days,  are  we  not  ?  ’ 
said  Laurence.  J 

4  That  is  quite  out  of  the  question,’  returned  he.  4  If 
we  were  not  so  kept  apart  by  events  —  for  you  have  made 
longer  journeys  than  the  distance  between  our  houses, 
dear  child  —  you  would  know  that  I  have  daughters  and 
daughters-in-law  and  granddaughters  and  grandchildren ; 
and  they  would  all  be  anxious  if  they  did  not  see  me  to¬ 
night.  I  have  more  than  forty  miles  to  drive.’ 

4  You  have  very  good  horses,’  said  the  Marquis  de 
Simeuse. 

4  Oh  !  I  have  only  come  from  Troyes;  I  was  there  yester¬ 
day  on  business.’ 

Then  followed  inquiries  after  the  family,  the  Marquise  . 
de  Chargeboeuf,  and  matters  really  indifferent,  in  which 
courtesy  requires  us  to  take  a  lively  interest.  It  seemed  to 
M.  d’Hauteserre  that  M.  de  Chargeboeuf’s  object  in  com¬ 
ing  had  been  to  recommend  his  relatives  to  commit  no 
imprudences.  The  times  were  very  much  changed,  so  the 
Marquis  took  occasion  to  say,  and  nobody  could  tell  now 
what  the  Emperor  might  become. 

4  Oh  !  he  will  be  a  god,’  said  Laurence. 

Then  the  good  Marquis  talked  of  making  concessions. 
And  M.  d’Hauteserre,  hearing  him  discourse  on  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  submission,  with  far  more  authority  and  conviction 
than  he  himself  ever  put  into  his  doctrine,  looked  almost 
imploringly  at  his  offspring. 

4  Would  you  serve  that  man  ?  ’  asked  the  Marquis  de 
Simeuse. 

4  Why,  yes,  if  the  interests  of  my  family  required  it.’ 

At  last  the  Marquis  began  to  hint  vaguely  at  distant  dan¬ 
gers  ;  and,  when  Laurence  asked  him  to  explain  himself, 
strongly  recommended  the  young  men  to  give  up  hunting 
and  to  keep  quietly  at  home. 


Corentin’s  Revenge  137 

c  You  always  think  of  the  lands  of  Gondreville  as  your 
own,’  he  said,  turning  to  the  Simeuses ;  c  that  is  the  way 
to  stir  up  danger.  I  can  see  by  your  astonishment  that 
you  have  no  idea  that  there  are  those  in  Troyes  who  bear 
you  ill-will ;  your  courage  has  not  been  forgotten  there. 
Nobody  scruples  to  tell  how  you  baffled  the  police ;  some 
praise  you,  some  say  you  are  the  Emperor’s  enemies,  and 
a  few  fanatics  here  and  there  are  amazed  at  the  Emperor’s 
clemency  in  your  case.  But  this  is  nothing.  You  have 
outwitted  persons  that  thought  themselves  more  than  a 
match  for  you,  and  low  people  never  forgive.  Now  all 
the  judicial  appointments  in  the  department  are,  more  or 
less,  made  by  your  enemy  Malin  ;  he  has  put  his  creatures 
in  every  post,  even  on  the  staff*  of  prosecuting  counsel ; 
and,  sooner  or  later,  his  judicial  functionaries  will  be  un¬ 
commonly  well  pleased  to  find  you  implicated  in  some 
delicate  business.  Some  peasant  or  other  will  pick  a 
quarrel  with  you  for  trespassing  over  his  field,  you  will  be 
out  with  loaded  guns,  you  have  quick  tempers,  misfortunes 
may  easily  happen.  People  in  your  position  must  be  in 
the  right  a  hundred  times  over  if  they  are  not  to  be  in  the 
wrong.  I  do  not  say  this  unadvisedly.  Your  arrondisse- 
ment  is  still  under  police  supervision ;  a  commissary  is 
maintained  in  that  little  hole  of  a  place,  Arcis,  on  purpose 
to  protect  a  member  of  the  Imperial  Senate  from  your 
designs  on  his  life.  He  is  afraid  of  you.  And  he  says  so.’ 
c  But  it  is  a  slander !  ’  cried  the  younger  brother. 
c  A  slander !  I  myself  think  so.  .  .  .  But  what  does 
the  public  think  ?  That  is  the  important  point.  Michu 
once  lay  in  wait  for  Malin.  Malin  has  not  forgotten  it. 
Since  your  return,  the  Countess  has  taken  Michu  into  her 
service.  And  so  a  good  many  people,  most  people  in  fact, 
think  that  Malin  is  right.  You  do  not  realise  how  very 
delicate  the  position  is,  when  an  emigre  is  brought  in  con¬ 
tact  with  the  new  owner  of  his  estates.  The  Prefect,  an 
intelligent  man,  just  let  fall  a  word  or  two  about  you  yes- 


ij8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

terday,  and  I  felt  uneasy.  In  short  I  would  rather  not  see 
you  here - 5 

The  Marquis’s  reply  was  received  with  the  utmost 
amazement.  Marie  Paul  rang  energetically.  M 

‘  Gothard,’  he  said,  when  the  little  fellow  came,  ‘  go  and 
fetch  Michu.’ 

It  was  not  long  before  the  ex-bailiff  of  Gondreville 
appeared. 

‘  Michu,  my  friend,’  began  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse,  1  is 
it  true  that  you  tried  to  kill  Malin  ?  ’ 

‘Yes,  my  lord  Marquis.  And  when  he  comes  back  I 
will  lie  in  wait  for  him  again - ’ 

‘  Do  you  know  that  we  are  suspected  of  setting  you  to 
watch  for  him  ?  That  our  cousin,  as  she  took  you  for 
her  tenant,  is  accused  of  complicity  in  a  plot  against  his 

life  ?  ’  * 

‘Good  gracious!’  cried  Michu.  ‘There  must  be  a 
curse  hanging  over  me.  Am  I  never  to  rid  you  quietly  of 
Malin  ?  ’ 

‘No,  no,  my  boy,’  said  Paul  Marie.  ‘You  must  leave  , 
our  service  and  the  neighbourhood.  We  will  watch  over 
your  interests  and  put  you  in  the  way  of  prospering.  Sell 
all  that  you  have  here,  realise  everything,  and  we  will  send 
you  to  Trieste.  We  have  a  friend  there  who  has  very 
large  business  connections ;  you  will  be  very  useful  to  him, 
until  things  improve  here  for  us  all.’ 

The  tears  came  into  Michu’s  eyes ;  he  stood  glued  to 
the  spot  on  the  polished  floor.  _  _ 

‘  Did  any  one  see  you  when  you  lay  in  wait  for  Malin  ? 
asked  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf. 

‘  Grevin,  the  notary,  was  talking  with  him,  or  I  should 
have  shot  him,  and  very  lucky  it  was  that  I  did  not,  as 
Madame  la  Comtesse  knows,’  he  added,  looking  at  his 
mistress. 

The  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  seemed  to  be  put  out  by 
all  this  questioning,  although  it  was  conducted  by  the  family 


Corentin’s  Revenge  139 

among  themselves.  ‘  Is  this  Grevin  the  only  person  who 
knows  of  it  ?  ’  he  asked. 

‘  That  spy  who  came  down  at  the  time  to  trap  the  mas¬ 
ters  knew  about  it  too.’ 

M.  Chargebceuf  got  up  and  went  to  the  window,  as  if 
he  were  interested  in  the  gardens. 

‘  You  have  made  great  improvements  here  at  Cinq-Cygne, 
have  you  not  ?  ’  he  said  ;  and  he  went  out,  followed  by  Lau¬ 
rence  and  the  Simeuses,  who  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
inquiry. 

Outside,  the  old  noble  turned  to  them. 

‘You  are  open-natured  and  generous,’  he  said,  ‘but 
rash  as  ever.  I  give  you  warning  of  a  rumour,  which  must 
be  a  slander ,  nothing  more  natural;  and  you  proceed  to 
prove  that  it  is  well  founded  before  weak-minded  folk  like 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  and  their  sons. — 
Oh  !  you  young  people!  you  young  people!  —  You  should 
leave  Michu  here,’  he  continued  ;  ‘  it  is  you,  you  who  ought 
to  go !  But  at  any  rate,  if  you  stop  in  the  neighbourhood, 
write  a  few  lines  to  the  Senator,  tell  him  that  you  have 
just  heard  through  me  of  the  rumours  current  about  your 
servant,  and  that  he  has  had  notice  given  him.’ 

‘  We  !  ’  cried  the  brothers.  ‘Are  we  to  write  to  Malin 
who  murdered  our  father  and  mother,  and  impudently 
robbed  us  of  our  estates  ?  ’ 

‘  That  is  all  true ;  but  he  is  one  of  the  greatest  personages 
at  the  Imperial  court,  and  a  king  in  the  Aube.’ 

‘  Malin  that  voted  for  the  King’s  death  if  the  Army  of 
Conde  should  enter  France,  and  otherwise  for  perpetual 
imprisonment !  ’  exclaimed  Laurence. 

‘  And  probably  advised  the  death  of  the  Due  d’Enghien,’ 
exclaimed  Paul  Marie. 

‘  Oh  !  well,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  recapitulate  all  his 
titles  to  nobility,’  exclaimed  the  Marquis,  ‘say  that  he 
pulled  down  Robespierre  by  the  skirts  of  his  coat  as  soon 
as  he  saw  that  the  majority  were  for  getting  rid  of  Robes- 


140  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

pierre ;  he  would  have  had  Bonaparte  taken  out  and  shot 
if  the  1 8th  Brumaire  had  failed;  he  would  bring  back  the 
Bourbons  if  Napoleon  should  totter.  The  strongest  will 
always  find  Malin  at  his  side,  with  a  sword  or  a  pistol  * 
ready  so  that  he  can  rid  himself  at  once  of  any  formidable 
antagonist !  —  But  so  much  the  more  reason/ 
cWe  are  sinking  very  low,’  said  Laurence. 

The  old  Marquis  led  them  further  away  to  a  strip  of 
grass-plot  covered  with  a  light  sprinkling  of  snow. 

c  Ah !  you  children,  you  will  fly  into  indignation  when 
you  hear  a  wise  man’s  advice ;  but  it  is  my  duty  to  give 
it.  This  is  what  I  should  do.  I  would  take  some  old 
gentleman  (like  myself,  for  instance)  as  mediator.  I  would 
authorise  him  to  make  Malin  an  offer  —  a  million  of  francs 
for  a  ratification  of  the  sale  of  Gondreville.  .  .  .  Oh  ! 
keep  the  thing  quiet,  he  would  agree  to  it.  Then  as  the  # 
funds  stand  now  you  would  have  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
per  annum,  you  could  buy  a  fine  estate  somewhere  else  in 
France,  leave  M.  d’Hauteserre  as  steward  of  Cinq-Cygne, 
and  pull  straws  to  decide  which  of  you  shall  marry  our  fair 
heiress  here.  But  an  old  man’s  talk  in  young  ears  is  like 
young  people’s  talk  for  old  folk  —  sound  with  no  meaning 
in  it.’ 

He  signified  that  he  wished  to  hear  no  reply  and  returned 
to  the  salon,  the  Abbe  Goujet  and  his  sister  having  mean¬ 
time  arrived.  The  Simeuses  were  indignant  at  the  proposal 
that  they  should  pull  straws  for  their  cousin,  and  Laurence 
was,  so  to  speak,  disgusted  by  the  unpalatable  remedy 
pointed  out  by  their  relative.  The  three  were  courteous, 
but  less  gracious  than  before.  Affection  had  received  a 
shock.  M.  de  Chargeboeuf  felt  the  coolness,  he  looked 
again  and  again  at  the  three  charming  faces,  and  his  eyes 
were  full  of  compassion.  The  conversation  became  general, 
but  he  still  talked  of  the  necessity  of  accepting  the  situation, 
and  vaunted  M.  d’Hauteserre’s  persistent  wish,  to  see  his 
sons  in  the  Emperor’s  army. 


Corentin’s  Revenge  14 1 

‘  Bonaparte  creates  dukes,’  he  said,  ‘  and  fiefs  of  the  Em¬ 
pire  ;  some  day  he  will  create  counts.  Malin  would  like 
to  be  Comte  de  Gondreville.  —  There  is  an  idea  which  you 
may  find  useful,’  he  added,  looking  as  he  spoke  at  the 
Simeuses. 

‘  Or  disastrous,’  said  Laurence. 

The  horses  were  put  in,  the  Marquis  rose  at  once  to  go, 
followed  by  the  whole  family.  He  beckoned  to  Laurence’ 
when  he  was  seated;  she  sprang,  light  as  a  bird,  to  the 
carriage  step. 

‘You  are  not  an  ordinary  woman,’  he  said,  lowering  his 
voice  for  her  ear;  ‘you  should  understand  me.  Malin 
cannot  let  you  alone;  his  conscience  is  uneasy;  he  will  lay 
some  sort  of  trap  for  you.  Whatever  you  do,  be  very  care¬ 
ful  even  of  your  slightest  actions.  Compound  the  matter, 
in  short,  that  is  my  last  word  to  you.’ 

The  brothers  stood  passive  and  motionless  beside 
Laurence  on  the  lawn,  watching  the  berlingot  as  it 
turned  through  the  gate  and  rolled  away  on  the  road  to 
Troyes;  Laurence  had  repeated  the  old  gentleman’s  last 
words  to  them.  It  is  always  a  mistake  on  the  part  of 
age  and  experience  to  come  upon  the  scene  in  a  berlingot, 
with  a  pair  of  striped  stockings  and  a  bag^wig.  Not  one 
of  the  three  young  creatures  could  conceive  the  changes 
that  were  taking  place  in  France.  Every  nerve  in  them 
was  quivering  with  indignation;  honour  like  their  noble 
blood  was  boiling  in  their  veins. 

‘And  he  is  the  head  of  the  Chargeboeufs !  ’  said  the 
Marquis  de  Simeuse,  ‘  a  man  with  the  words  Adsit  fortior 
for  his  motto,  one  of  the  grandest  of  all  war-cries  !  ’ 

‘There  is  only  the  baeu/Mf,  it  is  a  bovine  metamorphosis,’ 
said  Laurence,  with  a  bitter  smile. 

^  ‘  The  age  of  St  Louis  is  past !  ’  cried  the  younger  of  the 
Simeuses. 

‘  “  To  DIE  SINGING  !  ”  ’  Laurence  exclaimed.  ‘  The  cry 
sf  the  five  maids  who  founded  our  house  shall  be  mine !  ’ 


I42  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

i  And  our  motto  is  Cy  Meurs.  So  no  surrender,’  added 
the  elder  brother,  ‘  for  when  you  come  to  think  over  it  our 
relative  the  Ox  ruminated  very  sagaciously  over  what  he 
came  to  say  to  us.  Gondreville  will  sooner  or  later  be  * 
Malin’s  name.’ 

c  And  residence!’  exclaimed  Marie  raul. 

*  Mansard  designed  it  for  nobles,  and  the  people  would 

bring  up  their  broods  in  it,’  said  his  brother.  , 

*  If  it  is  to  be  so,  I  would  rather  see  Gondreville  burnt, 

Laurence  burst  out.  ,  , 

A  man  from  the  village  had  come  to  take  a  look  at  a 
calf  that  old  d’Hauteserre  was  selling  him;  he  came  out 
of  the  cow  shed  at  that  moment  and  heard  the  words. 

‘  Let  us  go  back  to  the  house,’  said  Laurence,  with  a 
smile ;  c  a  little  more  and  we  should  have  done  something 
imprudent,  and  made  good  the  prophecy  of  the  Ox,  over  a 
bargain  for  a  calf.” 

t  Michu,  my  poor  fellow,  I  had  forgotten  about  your 
prank,’  she  said,  as  she  returned  to  the  salon ;  ‘  but  we  are 
not  in  the  odour  of  sanctity  hereabouts,  so  do  not  get  us 
into  trouble.  Have  you  any  other  peccadillo  on  your 

conscience^rry  ^  j  did  not  m  my  old  master’s  murderer 

before  I  hurried  to  the  rescue  of  my  present  masters. 

‘  Michu  !  ’  cried  the  cure. 
c  But  I  am  not  going  to  leave  the  neighbourhood  until  1 
know  that  you  are  safe,’  he  continued,  taking  no  notice  ot 
the  exclamation.  ‘I  see  fellows  prowling  about  and  1 
don’t  altogether  like  the  looks  of  them.  The  last  time 
that  we  were  out  shooting  in  the  forest,  that  gamekeepei 
kind  of  fellow  that  they  have  taken  on  in  my  place  a, 
Gondreville  came  up  to  me  and  asked  me  if  we  though 
we  were  at  home  there.  “  Ah  !  my  boy,  I  told  him,  H 
is  not  easy  to  break  yourself  of  a  habit  in  two  month 
when  it  is  a  thing  that  has  been  done  for  two  hundre. 

years.”  ’ 


Corentin’s  Revenge  143 

4  You  are  in  the  wrong,  Michu,’  said  the  Marquis 
de  Simeuse,  with  a  pleased  smile. 

4  What  did  he  say  ? ’  asked  M.  d’Hauteserre. 

1  He  said  that  he  should  let  the  Senator  know  of  our 
pretensions.’ 

4  The  Comte  de  Gondreville !  ’  cried  the  elder  Simeuse. 
4  Ah  !  a  fine  farce  !  By  the  by,  they  say  44  your  Majesty  ” 
to  Bonaparte.’ 

4  And  44 your  Highness  ”  to  my  lord  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Berg,’  added  the  cure. 

4  Who  may  he  be?’  asked  M.  de  Simeuse. 

4  Murat,  Napoleon’s  brother-in-law,’  said  old  d’Hauteserre. 

4  Good !  ’  was  Laurence’s  comment.  4  And  do  they  say 
44  your  Majesty  ”  to  the  Marquis  de  Beauharnais’s  widow  ?  ’ 

4  Yes,  Mademoiselle.’ 

4  We  ought  to  go  to  Paris  to  see  all  this  !  ’  cried  Laurence. 

4  Alas,  Mademoiselle,’  said  Michu,  4 1  went  to  Paris  to 
take  Francois  to  school,  and  upon  my  word  there  is  no  try¬ 
ing  on  any  nonsense  with  the  Imperial  Guard,  as  they  call 
them.  If  the  whole  army  is  cut  out  on  that  pattern,  it 
may  last  our  time  and  longer.’ 

4  They  talk  of  noble  families  that  are  entering  the  ser¬ 
vice,’  said  M.  d’Hauteserre. 

4  And  as  the  law  stands  at  present,  your  children  will  be 
bound  to  serve,’  rejoined  the  cure. 

4  The  law  recognises  no  distinctions  of  rank  or  name, 
now.’ 

4  That  man  is  doing  us  more  damage  with  his  court, 
than  the  Revolution  did  with  the  axe !  ’  exclaimed  Laurence. 

4  The  Church  prays  for  him,’  put  in  the  cure. 

All  these  things  that  were  said,  one  after  another,  were 
like  so  many  commentaries  on  the  old  Marquis  de  Charge- 
boeuP s  wise  words ;  but  the  young  people  had  too  much 
confidence,  too  strong  a  sense  of  honour  to  accept  a  com¬ 
promise.  They  said  among  themselves  what  every  de¬ 
feated  party  has  said  since  the  world  began,  to  wit,  that 


144 


A  Gondreville  Mystery 


there  would  be  an  end  of  the  prosperity  of  the  victorious 
side  The  Emperor  was  kept  in  his  place  entirely  by  the 
army;  sooner  or  later  the  right  would  triumph,  and  so  forth, 
and  so  forth ;  and  thus,  in  spite  of  warnings,  they  fell  into  the  * 
pit  that  was  digged  before  them,  while  prudent  and  docile 
folk,  like  old  d’Hauteserre,  would  have  avoided  it.  It 
people  would  be  honest,  they  would  perhaps  admit  that 
misfortunes  never  burst  upon  them  without  some  warning  - 
beforehand,  either  from  without  or  within  ;  but  there  are 
many  who  only  recognise  the  profound  S1gn,fican^  of  ^ 
portent,  mysterious  or  otherwise,  after  the  calamity  has 

be^In  any  case,  Madame  la  Comtesse  knows  that  I  cannot 
leave  the  place  until  I  have  sent  in  my  accounts,  Michu 
whispered  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne. 

For  all  answer  she  gave  him  a  look,  and  he  wen  . 
Michu  sold  his  land  at  once  to  Beauvisage,  the  tenant  ot 
Bellache,  but  he  could  not  receive  payment  for  nearly  three 
weeks.  Laurence,  meanwhile,  had  told  her  cousins  of  thei 
fortune  hidden  in  the  forest;  and  so,  just  a  month  after  the 
Marquis’s  visit,  she  suggested  that  they  should  unearth  the 
hoard  on  the  mid-Lent  holiday.  But  for  heavy  falls  of 
snow,  it  would  have  been  dug  up  before;  but  Michu  was 
better  pleased  that  his  masters  should  be  present  on  he 
occasion.  He  had  quite  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  the 
place;  he  could  not  trust  himself. 

P  ‘  Malin  has  come  down  to  Gondreville  qnite  suddenly, 
no  one  knows  why,'  he  told  his  mistress ,  <  and  the  thought 
of  ha.ing  Gondreville  pot  up  for  sale  in  consequence  o , 
the  owner’s  decease,  would  be  too  much  for  m  . 
like  a  guilty  man,  when  I  do  not  act  on  the  inspiration. 

‘What  can  have  induced  him  to  leave  Pans  in  the  dept 

°f  "ill  Ards  is  talking  about  it,'  said  Michu,  ‘he  left  his 
family  in  Paris  and  brought  down  no  one  but  his  own  man 
M.  Grevin,  the  Arcis  notary,  and  Madame  Marion, 


Corentin’s  Revenge  145 

-ceiver-generaPs  wife  (sister-in-law  of  the  other  Marion, 
/lalin’s  stalking-horse),  are  keeping  him  company.’ 

Laurence  thought  the  mid-Lent  holiday  a  capital  day  for 
heir  purpose,  for  it  gave  her  an  excuse  for  ridding  herself 
f  the  servants.  The  masqueraders  in  the  town  attracted 
he  peasants  *,  and  no  one  would  be  working  in  the  fields. 
Jut  as  so  often  happens  in  criminal  affairs,  it  was  precisely 
he  choice  of  the  day  that  helped  to  bring  about  the  disaster, 
"ate  was  as  ingenious  in  her  calculations  as  Mademoiselle 
ie  Cinq-Cygne.  The  young  people  held  a  council,  decided 
hat  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre  would  be  so  anx- 
ous  if  they  knew  that  a  hoard  of  eleven  hundred  thousand 
rancs  in  gold  was  buried  on  the  outskirts  of  a  forest,  that 
hey  concluded  to  spare  them  the  knowledge.  The  young 
PHauteserres,  consulted  on  the  point,  were  of  the  same 
jpinion.  The  secret  of  the  expedition  was  confined  to  the 
bur  nobles,  Gothard,  Michu,  and  Laurence  herself. 

After  much  calculation  it  seemed  possible  that  each 
lorse  could  carry  a  load  of  forty-eight  thousand  francs  in 
1  long  bag  over  the  crupper.  Three  journeys  would  be 
mough.  It  was  agreed  that  the  servants’  curiosity  might 
)rove  dangerous,  so  they  were  all  sent  off  to  Troyes  to  see 
he  mid-Lent  rejoicings.  Catherine,  Marthe,  and  Durieu, 
vho  might  be  trusted,  stayed  at  the  chateau.  The  servants 
/ery  willingly  accepted  their  holiday  and  went  before  day¬ 
break.  Gothard,  with  Michu’s  help,  rubbed  down  the 
lorses  and  saddled  them  early  in  the  morning ;  the  caval- 
:ade  went  round  by  way  of  the  gardens,  and  there  they 
started  for  the  forest.  They  were  just  mounting  (for  the 
bark  gate  was  so  low  that  every  one  had  gone  in  on  foot, 
iach  leading  his  horse)  when  old  Beauvisage,  the  tenant  of 
Bellache,  came  by. 

c  Hullo  !  ’  cried  Gothard  ;  c  here  comes  somebody - ’ 

4  Oh,  it  is  I  !  ’  said  the  honest  farmer,  coming  out  upon 
them.  c  Good  day,  gentlemen.  So  you  are  going  a-hunt- 
;ng  in  spite  of  the  Prefect’s  orders.  I  am  not  one  to  com¬ 
ic 


146  A  Gondreville  Mystery- 

plain,  but  take  care  !  If  you  have  friends  you  have  plenty 
of  enemies/ 

4  Aha!’  returned  the  burly  d’Hauteserre,  with  a  smile 
c  God  send  success  to  our  hunting,  and  you  shall  have  yom 
masters  back  again/ 

At  these  words,  on  which  events  were  to  put  a  very  dif¬ 
ferent  construction,  Laurence  looked  sternly  at  Robert 
The  Marquis  de  Simeuse  imagined  that  Malin  would  give 
up  Gondreville  if  the  purchase-money  was  returned  tc 
him.  The  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  had  advised  the  exactly 
opposite  course.  Robert,  sharing  the  young  people’ 
hopes,  had  them  in  his  mind  when  he  uttered  these  fata 
words. 

c  In  any  case,  mum  is  the  word,  old  boy,’  Michu  said  t< 
Beauvisage,  as  he  took  the  key  and  followed  the  others. 

It  was  one  of  those  bright  days  toward  the  end  of  March 
when  there  is  no  dampness  in  the  air;  when  the  ground  i 
dry,  the  weather  cloudless,  and  the  warmth  seems  curiousb 
at  variance  with  the  leafless  trees.  So  mild  was  the  weathe 
that  there  were  patches  of  green  here  and  there  in  the  coun 
try  as  they  went. 

4  We  are  setting  out  to  look  for  treasure,  and  all  th 
while  you  are  the  real  prize  of  our  house,  cousin,’  laughe* 
the  elder  of  the  Simeuses.  Laurence  went  at  a  footpac 
ahead  of  the  others,  with  a  cousin  on  either  side.  Th 
two  d’Hauteserres  came  next,  and  Michu  brought  up  th 
rear.  Gothard  had  been  sent  on  in  front  to  look  out  alon 
the  way. 

4  If  our  fortune,  a  part  of  it  at  least,  is  to  be  found  agair 
marry  my  brother,’  said  the  younger  of  the  twins  in  a  lo\ 
voice.  4  He  idolises  you ;  you  would  be  as  rich  as  th 
nobles  of  these  days  are  obliged  to  be.’ 

4  No.  Leave  the  money  to  him,  and  I  will  marry  yoi 
since  I  am  rich  enough  for  two,’  returned  she. 

4  So  let  it  be  !  ’  cried  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse.  4  And 
will  go  to  find  a  wife  worthy  to  be  your  sister/ 


Corentin’s  Revenge  147 

‘Then  you  love  me  less  than  I  thought,’  said  Laurence, 
toking  at  him  jealously. 

‘  No ;  I  love  you  both  more  than  you  love  me,’  retorted 
le  Marquis. 

‘  And  for  that  reason  you  would  sacrifice  yourself? 
sked  Laurence,  with  eyes  full  of  the  momentary  prefer- 
nce.  The  Marquis  made  no  reply.  His  silence  drew 
n  impatient  gesture  from  her. 

‘  Very  well,’  she  said ;  ‘  in  that  case  I  should  think  of 
ou  always,  and  my  husband  would  find  that  intolerable. 

‘  How  could  I  live  without  you  ?  ’  exclaimed  the  younger 
irother,  looking  at  the  older. 

‘Still,  you  cannot  take  us  both,  said  the  Marquis. 
And  it  is  time  to  make  a  decision,’  he  added,  his  tone 
ibrupt  with  deep  feeling.  And  he  pushed  on  ahead  lest 
he  d’Hauteserres  should  hear.  His  companions  horses 
ollowed.  When  they  had  put  a  reasonable  interval  be- 
ween  themselves  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  Laurence 
:ried  to  speak,  but  at  first  tears  came  and  no  words. 

‘  I  will  go  into  a  convent,’  she  said  at  last. 

C  And  be  the  last  of  the  Cinq-Cygnes  ?  ’  asked  the 
younger  Simeuse.  ‘  Then  instead  of  one  unhappy  man 
who  consents  to  his  lot,  you  would  have  two  ?  Nay. 
The  one  who  can  only  be  a  brother  to  you  will  resign 
himself  to  his  fate.  When  we  knew  that  we  were  ^not 
to  be  so  poor  as  we  thought,  we  had  an  explanation,  he 
added,  looking  at  the  Marquis.  ‘If  I  am  preferred,  this 
fortune  of  ours  goes  to  my  brother.  If  I  am  the  unhappy 
one,  he  will  make  over  the  fortune  to  me,  and  the  title  as 
well,  for  he  will  be  the  Comte  de  Cinq-Cygne.  Which¬ 
ever  way  it  happens,  the  unlucky  brother  will  have  a 
chance  of  an  establishment.  And  finally,  if  he  feels  that 
he  is  heartbroken,  he  will  go  into  the  army  to  be  killed 
without  casting  a  shadow  on  the  other  two.’ 

‘  We  are  true  knights  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  we  are  worthy 
of  our  sires  !  ’  cried  Paul  Marie.  ‘  Decide,  Laurence  !  ’ 


148  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  We  cannot  go  on  like  this  any  longer,’  added  the 
younger. 

c  And,  Laurence,’  added  the  elder,  4  do  not  think  that 
there  will  be  no  luxury  in  self-sacrifice.’ 

4  My  two  dearly  loved  ones,  I  cannot  decide.  I  love  you 
both  as  if  you  were  but  one;  as  you  loved  your  mother.  God 
will  help  us.  I  shall  not  make  the  choice.  We  will  leave 
chance  to  decide,  and  I  have  one  condition  to  make.’ 

4  What  is  it  ?  ’ 

4  That  the  one  that  shall  be  my  brother  afterwards  shall 
stay  till  I  give  him  leave  to  go.  I  wish  to  be  the  sole 
judge  of  the  expediency  of  his  going.’ 

The  brothers  agreed  to  this,  though  they  did  not  under¬ 
stand  what  was  in  her  mind. 

4  The  first  to  whom  Madame  d’Hauteserre  shall  address 
a  word  to-night  at  dinner,  after  the  Benedicite ,  shall  be  my 
husband,’  continued  Laurence.  4  But  there  must  be  no 
tricks ;  none  of  you  are  to  prompt  her  to  ask  a  question.’ 

4  We  will  play  fairly,’  said  Marie  Paul,  and  they  kissed 
Laurence’s  hand.  The  decision  would  soon  be  made; 
each  of  the  brothers  could  believe  that  it  would  be  in  his 
favour,  and  their  spirits  rose  high. 

4  However  it  is,  Laurence  dear,  you  will  make  a  Comte 
de  Cinq-Cygne,’  said  the  elder. 

4  And  in  our  game  the  one  who  wins  will  lose  his  name,’ 
added  the  younger  Simeuse. 

4  I  think,  at  this  rate,  that  Madame  la  Comtesse  will  be 
a  bride  before  long,’  said  Michu,  behind  the  d’Hauteserres. 
4  The  masters  are  in  great  spirits.  If  my  mistress  makes 
her  choice,  I  shall  stay  on.  I  want  to  see  that  wedding.’ 

Neither  of  the  d’Hauteserres  answered  a  word.  Quite 
suddenly  a  single  magpie  lighted  down  between  the 
d’Hauteserres  and  Michu.  Like  all  children  of  the  soil, 
Michu  was  superstitious ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard 
the  death-bell  tolling.  But  for  the  other  three  the  day 
began  gayly  enough ;  when  lovers  go  together  through  a 


Corentin’s  Revenge  149 

vood  they  very  seldom  see  magpies.  Michu  had  brought 
iis  map,  and  found  the  spot ;  each  of  the  gentlemen  was 
provided  with  a  pick,  and  the  money  was  unearthed.  The 
liding-place  was  in  a  lonely  spot  in  the  forest,  far  from  any 
3ath  or  human  dwelling,  and  the  cavalcade  met  no  one, 
vhich  was  unfortunate ;  for,  grown  bold  with  success,  they 
;ook  a  short  cut  on  the  journey  for  the  last  two  hundred 
:housand  francs.  The  road  went  past  the  highest  point  of 
die  forest,  from  which  you  could  see  the  park  at  Gondreville. 

c  There  is  a  fire  !  ’  exclaimed  Laurence,  seeing  a  column 
of  bluish  smoke. 

‘A  bonfire  somewhere  or  other,’  said  Michu. 

Laurence  knew  every  track  and  path  in  the  woods ;  she 
left  the  party  and  rode  at  full  gallop  to  the  Cinq-Cygne 
lodge,  Michu’s  old  home.  The  house  was  empty  and  shut 
up,  but  the  gate  stood  open,  and  Laurence  noticed  at  once 
the  tracks  of  several  horses.  The  smoke  was  rising  from 
a  grassy  space  in  the  ‘  English  park.’  They  must  be  burn¬ 
ing  weeds,  she  thought. 

c  Ah  !  you  are  in  it  too,  mademoiselle  !  ’  cried  a  voice. 
It  was  Violette.  The  man  had  come  at  a  gallop  down  the 
way  from  the  park,  and  now  pulled  up  at  the  sight  of 
Laurence.  ‘  But  it  is  only  a  carnival  joke,  isn’t  it  ?  They 
are  not  going  to  kill  him,  are  they  ?  ’ 

‘Whom?’ 

‘Your  cousins  don’t  mean  to  kill  him.’ 

‘  Kill  ?  Whom  ?  ’ 

‘The  Senator.’ 

‘You  are  mad,  Violette  !  ’ 

‘  Well  then,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  ’  retorted  he.  But 
at  the  first  mention  of  danger  for  her  cousins,  the  gallant 
girl  turned  and  rode  back  at  full  speed,  and  reached  the  spot 
just  as  the  last  loads  were  ready. 

‘  Look  out !  Something  is  happening,  I  don’t  know 
what.  But  let  us  go  back  to  Cinq-Cygne.’ 

While  they  had  been  busy  unearthing  the  fortune  saved 


150  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

by  the  late  Marquis,  a  strange  scene  had  taken  place  at  the 
chateau  de  Gondreville. 

At  half-past  two  that  afternoon  the  Senator  and  his 
friend  Grevin  were  playing  a  game  of  chess  beside  the 
fire  in  the  great  salon  on  the  ground  floor.  Madame 
Marion  and  Madame  Grevin  were  chatting  together  on 
a  sofa  drawn  up  to  the  fireside.  The  servants  had  all  gone 
over  to  Troyes  to  see  a  curious  masquerade  long  adver¬ 
tised  in  the  arrondissement.  The  keeper,  Michu’s  succes¬ 
sor  at  the  Cinq-Cygne  lodge,  had  likewise  gone  with  his 
family.  The  only  people  in  the  chateau,  beside  the  group 
in  the  salon,  were  the  Senator’s  own  man  and  Violette. 
The  gate-keeper  and  a  couple  of  gardeners  were  at  their 
posts,  but  the  lodge  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  drive  at 
the  further  end  of  the  Arcis  avenue,  at  such  a  distance  that 
you  could  not  hear  a  shot  fired  at  the  chateau.  On  this 
particular  afternoon,  moreover,  the  folk  were  all  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house,  watching  on  the  threshold  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  the  mummers  come  from  Arcis,  more  than  a 
mile  away. 

Violette  was  waiting  in  the  great  entrance  hall  for  an 
interview  with  the  Senator  and  Grevin  as  to  the  renewal 
of  his  lease,  when  five  men,  wearing  masks  and  gloves, 
burst  in  upon  Violette  and  the  man-servant,  gagged  them 
with  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  tied  them  down  to*  two 
chairs  in  the  pantry.  Four  of  the  intruders  resembled  the! 
MM.  d’Hauteserre  and  Simeuse  in  figure,  manners,  and 
gait ;  the  fifth  man  was  like  Michu.  Quick  as  they  had 
been  about  their  work,  both  the  victims  continued  to  cry 
out,  and  the  cry  was  heard  by  the  party  in  the  drawing¬ 
room.  The  women  insisted  that  it  was  a  cry  of  alarm. 

c  Listen  !  ’  exclaimed  Madame  Grevin  ;  c  there  are  thieves 
in  the  house  !  ’ 

c  Pooh,  some  carnival  cry,’  said  Grevin ;  c  the  mummers 
are  coming  to  the  chateau.’ 

The  dispute  gave  the  five  masked  intruders  time  to  shut 


Corentin’ s  Revenge  1 5 1 

ie  gates  on  the  side  of  the  great  courtyard,  and  to  lock 
iolette  and  the  man-servant  into  the  pantry.  Madame 
Irevin,  a  tolerably  self-willed  lady,  persisted  in  going  out 
>  learn  the  cause  of  the  sound.  She  fell  in  with  the  five 
lasks,  and  met  with  the  fate  of  Violette  and  the  man-servant, 
'his  done,  they  burst  into  the  salon,  the  two  strongest 
rappled  with  the  Comte  de  Gondreville,  gagged  him  and 
urried  him  off  across  the  park,  while  the  other  three, 
aving  gagged  Madame  Marion  and  the  notary,  bound 
lem  down,  each  in  an  arm-chair.  The  whole  thing 
vas  over  and  done  in  less  than  half  an  hour.  The  two 
ame  back  to  join  the  others,  and  then  began  a  thorough 
earch  through  the  chateau  from  garret  to  cellar.  Not  a 
ingle  lock  was  picked,  but  every  cupboard  was  opened,  and 
very  wall  was  sounded ;  the  place  was  at  their  mercy,  in 
hort,  till  five  o’clock  that  evening.  About  that  time  the 
nan-servant  succeeded  in  gnawing  through  the  cords  that 
iound  Violette.  Violette,  now  ungagged,  raised  the  alarm. 
\.t  the  sound  of  his  shouts  the  five  strangers  made  off 
tcross  the  gardens,  mounted  horses  like  those  ridden  by 
he  Cinq-Cygnes,  and  escaped,  but  not  so  nimbly  but  that 
Violette  saw  them.  Violette  unbound  the  man-servant 
md  left  him  to  look  after  the  women  and  the  notary, 
vhile  he  himself  bestrode  his  nag  and  rode  off  after  the 
miscreants.  When  he  reached  the  Cinq-Cygne  lodge,  to 
lis  unspeakable  amazement  he  saw  the  gate  standing  wide 
jpen,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  as  he  supposed, 
an  sentry  duty. 

The  young  Countess  was  away  out  of  sight  when  Grevin 
rode  up  with  the  rural  policeman  of  the  commune  of  Gondre¬ 
ville,  the  gate-keeper  having  found  him  a  mount  in  the 
stables,  while  the  gate-keeper’s  wife  went  to  give  notice  to 
the  gendarmerie  at  Arcis.  Violette  forthwith  spoke  to 
Grevin  of  his  meeting  with  Laurence,  and  her  flight  ;  the 
depth  and  decision  of  that  fearless  young  woman’s  char¬ 
acter  was  known  to  them  both. 


i  $2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  She  was  on  the  lookout,’  added  Violette. 

c  Is  it  possible  that  the  Cinq-Cygne  nobles  can  have 
made  the  attack  ?  ’  cried  Grevin. 

c  What !  ’  returned  Violette.  c  Did  you  not  recognise 
big  Michu  ?  He  sprang  upon  me.  I  felt  the  weight  of 
his  fist,  I  did.  What  is  more,  the  horses  certainly  came 
out  of  the  Cinq-Cygne  stables.’ 

Grevin  looked  round  at  the  marks  of  horses’  hoofs  on 
the  sand,  and  left  the  policeman  at  the  gate  to  keep  a 
watch  over  the  precious  footprints,  sending  Violette  to 
fetch  the  justice  of  the  peace  from  Arcis  to  verify  them, 
while  he  himself  rode  back  at  once  to  the  chateau  de 
Gondreville  and  entered  the  drawing-room.  The  lieutenant 
and  sub-lieutenant  of  the  gendarmerie  had  come,  with  four 
men  and  a  corporal. 

The  lieutenant,  as  might  be  expected,  was  the  very 
corporal  in  whose  head  Francois  had  made  a  hole  two 
years  previously.  Corentin  had  helped  him  to  the  name  of 
his  mischievous  antagonist.  This  man’s  name  was  Giguet. 
His  brother  in  the  army  became  one  of  the  foremost  colonels 
in  the  artillery,  and  he  himself  rose  by  his  merit  to  his  rank 
in  the  gendarmerie,  and  subsequently  to  the  command  of 
the  Aube  division. 

The  sub-lieutenant,  Welff  by  name,  was  the  man  who 
had  served  in  Egypt.  He  drove  Corentin  from  Cinq- 
Cygne  to  the  hunting  lodge,  and  thence  to  Troyes;  and 
sufficiently  edifying  tales  he  heard,  by  the  way,  of  the 
4  trickery  ’  of  Laurence  and  Michu,  as  Corentin  was  pleased 
to  call  it. 

Consequently,  both  Giguet  and  Welff  were  sure  to  dis¬ 
play  no  little  zeal  against  the  Cinq-Cygnes.  Malin  and 
Grevin  had  both  been  employed  on  the  Code  of  Brumaire 
of  the  year  IV,  the  work  promulgated  by  the,  so-called, 
National  Convention  under  the  Directory;  and  they  had 
worked  together.  Grevin,  knowing  this  piece  of  legisla¬ 
tion  to  the  bottom,  was  able  to  work  the  present  affair 


Corentin’s  Revenge  153 

yith  incredible  speed,  on  the  presumption  almost  amount- 
ng  to  a  certainty  that  Michu,  the  d’Hauteserres,  and  the 
iimeuses  were  guilty.  Scarcely  any  one  now  living,  save 
m  old  magistrate  here  and  there,  can  recollect  the  old 
judicial  organisation  overturned  by  Napoleon  about  that 
r6ry  time  by  the  promulgation  of  his  Code,  and  the  institu- 
ion  of  the  present  system. 

By  the  Code  of  Brumaire  of  the  year  IV  the  conduct 
rf  the  prosecution  of  the  misdemeanour  committed  at 
3ondreville  was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Director  of 
.he  Jury  in  the  department.  Remark,  by  the  way,  that 
:he  Convention  struck  the  word  ‘  crime  ’  out  of  the  dic¬ 
tionary  of  legal  terms,  and  admitted  nothing  but  misde¬ 
meanours  :  misdemeanours  against  the  law,  misdemeanours 
punishable  as  the  case  may  be  by  fine,  imprisonment,  or 
disgrace,  while  a  fourth  series  of  penalties  known  as  cor¬ 
poral  punishments  ’  included  death.  The  ‘  corporal  pun¬ 
ishment  ’  of  death,  however,  was  destined  to  be  commuted 
after  the  Peace  to  twenty-four  years  of  penal  servitude. 
The  Convention,  it  would  seem,  held  that  twenty-four 
years  in  a  convicts’  prison  is  equivalent  to  death ;  what  is 
to  be  said  of  the  Code  Penal  with  its  ‘  penal  servitude  in 
perpetuity  ’  ? 

The  Code  Napoleon,  even  then  in  process  of  com¬ 
pletion,  suppressed  the  Directors  of  the  Jury  altogether, 
because  such  enormous  powers  were  united  in  their  hands. 
So  far  as  the  conduct  of  the  prosecution,  and  the  drawing 
up  of  the  indictment  was  concerned,  a  Director  of  the 
Jury  was  in  some  sort  the  agent  of  the  judicial  police,  the 
public  prosecutor,  examining  magistrate,  and  court  of 
appeal,  all  in  one.  There  was,  however,  one  check  upon 
him  :  his  procedure  and  indictment  were  submitted  to  the 
commissary  of  the  executive  power  for  his  visa;  and  all 
the  facts  taken  down  in  examination  were  laid  before  a 
jury  of  eight,  who  heard  the  accused  and  the  witnesses, 
and  finally  brought  in  a  preliminary  verdict,  called  the 


154  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

verdict  <T  accusation.  As  this  jury,  however,  met  in  the 
Director’s  private  office,  that  functionary  was  pretty  cer¬ 
tain  so  to  bring  his  influence  to  bear  upon  them  that  they 
could  only  work  with  and  not  against  him.  So  much  for 
the  jury  d? accusation.  The  second  jury  present  in  court 
during  the  actual  trial  of  the  accused,  was  composed  of 
entirely  new  names,  and  called  the  jury  de  jugement  by  way  , 
of  distinction  from  the  first. 

As  for  the  Criminal  Tribunal  (re-named  the  Criminal 
Court  by  Napoleon),  it  consisted  of  a  president,  four  judges, 
a  public  accuser,  and  a  commissary  representing  the  Gov¬ 
ernment.  Still  between  1799  and  1806  there  were  Special 
Courts,  as  they  were  called,  empowered  to  try  without  a 
jury,  in  certain  cases  and  in  certain  departments ;  and  these 
Special  Courts  consisted  of  judges  from  the  Civil  Tribunal. 
The  conflict  between  special  and  criminal  justice  raised 
questions  as  to  competence  which  were  sent  up  to  the 
Court  of  Cassation.  If  there  had  been  a  Special  Court  in 
the  Aube,  a  case  of  an  attempt  on  the  life  or  liberty  of  an 
Imperial  Senator  would  no  doubt  have  gone  up  before  it ; 
but  in  that  quiet  department  there  was  no  provision  for 
exceptional  cases.  So  Grevin  sent  off  the  sub-lieutenant 
to  the  Director  of  the  Jury  at  Troyes.  The  man  that  had 
served  in  Egypt  galloped  off  post  haste  to  Gondreville,  and 
came  back  with  that  all  but  omnipotent  functionary. 

The  Director  of  the  Jury  at  Troyes,  Lechesneau  by 
name,  had  formerly  been  lieutenant  of  the  bailiwick,  and  a 
salaried  clerk  of  a  committee  of  the  Convention.  He  was 
a  friend  of  Malin’s  and  owed  his  appointment  to  him. 
As  an  experienced  practitioner  of  the  old  criminal  law,  he 
as  well  as  Grevin  had  been  of  great  use  to  Malin  in  his 
judicial  reforms  under  the  Convention.  For  which  reason 
Malin  had  recommended  him  to  Cambaceres,  and  Leches¬ 
neau  was  appointed  a  receiver-general  of  taxes  in  Italy.! 
Unluckily  for  his  prospects,  however,  he  became  involved 
in  an  intrigue  with  a  great  lady  at  Turin;  her  husband 


Corentin’ s  Revenge  155 

ireatened  to  prosecute  for  the  abduction  of  a  child  born 

I  adultery,  and  Napoleon  was  obliged  to  cashier  the  official, 
echesneau,  lying  under  such  obligations  to  Malin,  guessed 
le  importance  of  the  attempt,  and  came  over  with  a 
icket  of  twelve  gendarmes  and  a  captain. 

Before  setting  out,  he  naturally  asked  for  an  interview 
rith  the  Prefect.  Night  was  falling,  the  semaphore  was 
ot  available,  but  an  estafette  was  despatched  to  Paris  to 
sport  such  an  unheard-of  crime  to  the  Minister  of  Police, 
le  Chief  Justiciary,  and  the  Emperor. 

Mesdames  Marion  and  Grevin,  Violette,  and  the  Sena- 
ar’s  man,  with  the  justice  of  the  peace  and  his  clerks,  were 

II  in  the  drawing-room  when  Lechesneau  came  in.  The 
ouse  had  already  been  searched,  and  the  justice  of  the 
eace,  with  Grevin’s  assistance,  was  carefully  collecting 
he  evidence.  The  first  thing  that  struck  Lechesneau  was 
he  profound  scheming  revealed  in  the  choice  of  the  day 
,nd  the  hour.  It  was  too  late  to  set  about  seeking  circum- 
tantial  evidence.  At  that  time  of  year  it  is  almost  dark 
,t  five  o’clock.  Violette  had  not  been  able  to  start  sooner 
n  pursuit  of  the  delinquents,  and  night  often  means  im¬ 
munity  for  evil-doers.  To  choose  a  holiday  when  every¬ 
body  was  sure  to  go  to  see  the  masquerade  at  Arcis,  and 
fie  Senator  equally  certain  to  be  at  home  —  did  not  this 
insure  that  there  should  be  no  witnesses  ? 

‘  Let  us  do  justice  to  the  clearsightedness  of  the  agents 
of  the  prefecture  of  police,’  said  Lechesneau.  ‘  They  have 
:ontinually  warned  us  against  the  nobles  at  Cinq-Cygne, 
and  told  us  that  sooner  or  later  they  would  play  us  some 
ugly  trick  or  other.’ 

The  Prefect  of  the  Aube,  meanwhile,  was  sending  esta- 
fettes  to  all  the  prefectures  round  about  Troyes,  with  in¬ 
structions  to  search  for  traces  of  the  five  masks  and  the 
Senator.  Lechesneau,  feeling  sure  that  the  Prefect  would 
take  active  measures,  began  by  laying  down  the  basis  of 
the  legal  inquiry.  With  two  such  experts  as  Grevin  and 


156  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

the  justice  of  the  peace,  the  work  went  rapidly  forward. 
The  justice  of  the  peace,  one  Pigoult  by  name,  had  been 
at  one  time  head  clerk  in  the  solicitors’  office  in  which  Malin 
and  Grevin  studied  chicanery  at  Paris.  Three  months  after 
this  affair  he  was  appointed  president  of  the  tribunal  at 
Arcis. 

As  for  Michu,  Lechesneau  knew  that  he  had  previously 
threatened  Marion,  and  knew  likewise  about  the  Senator’s 
escape  that  day  in  the  park.  These  two  facts,  the  one  a 
consequence  of  the  other,  were  to  constitute  the  two  first 
counts  on  the  present  indictment ;  they  pointed  to  Michu 
as  the  ringleader  of  the  band,  and  this  the  more  unmistak¬ 
ably  since  Monsieur  and  Madame  Grevin,  Violette,  and 
Madame  Marion  declared  that  one  of  the  five  masks  was 
exactly  like  the  bailiff.  Indeed,  the  colour  of  his  hair,  the 
man’s  whiskers,  and  thick-set  build  made  a  disguise  pretty 
nearly  useless.  Who  but  Michu,  besides,  could  have  opened 
the  gates  of  the  Cinq-Cygne  lodge  with  a  key  ?  The  keeper 
and  his  wife,  questioned  on  their  return  from  Arcis,  deposed 
that  they  had  locked  both  gates  before  they  went ;  and  when 
the  gates  were  examined  by  the  justice  of  the  peace,  assisted 
by  his  clerk  and  the  rural  policeman,  there  was  no  sign  of 
a  forcible  entrance. 

4  He  must  have  kept  the  duplicate  keys  belonging  to  the 
chateau,  when  we  turned  him  out,’  said  Grevin.  4  And  he 
must  have  been  meditating  some  desperate  step,’  he  added, 
4  for  he  has  just  sold  his  land.  The  purchase  was  to  be1 
completed  in  twenty  days,  and  the  money  was  paid  over  the 
day  before  yesterday  in  my  office.’ 

4  They  will  have  arranged  to  throw'  all  the  blame  on  him,5 
exclaimed  Lechesneau,  struck  by  this  circumstance.  4  He 
has  appeared  as  their  instrument.’ 

Who  could  know  their  way  about  the  chateau  bettei 
than  the  Simeuses  and  d’Hauteserres  ?  Not  one  of  the 
attacking  party  had  made  any  mistake ;  they  had  gone 
straight  to  the  point  in  a  way  which  showed  that  they  knew 


Corentin’s  Revenge  157 

iite  well  what  they  wanted,  and  where  to  find  it.  None 
*  the  locks  of  the  cupboards  that  they  left  open  had  been 
reed.  Therefore  they  had  keys.  And  strange  to  say 
ley  had  not  made  the  slightest  disorder.  There  was 
)  question  of  theft.  Finally,  Violette  had  not  merely 
cognised  the  horses ;  he  had  actually  seen  the  Countess 
1  the  watch  at  the  Cinq-Cygne  gate.  All  these  facts, 
ken  together  with  the  depositions,  afforded  strong  pre- 
imption  of  guilt  against  the  Simeuses,  and  d’Hauteserres, 
id  Michu,  even  for  an  unprejudiced  tribunal;  in  the 
dnd  of  the  Director  of  the  Jury,  the  presumption  of  guilt 
"generated  into  certainty. 

Now  what  should  they  want  with  the  future  Comte  de 
fondreville  ?  To  compel  him  to  give  up  the  estate  ?  It 
as  known  that  so  far  back  as  1799  the  bailiff  had  said 
lat  he  had  the  money  ready.  The  whole  aspect  of  the 
ise  was  changed  at  once. 

Then  Lechesneau  asked  himself  what  the  object  of 
lat  diligent  search  through  the  chateau  could  have  been, 
.evenge  was  out  of  the  question ;  the  delinquents  would 
ave  killed  Malm  outright.  Yet,  how  if  the  Senator  was 
:tually  dead  and  buried?  And  yet,  as  he  had  been  kid- 
apped,  he  was  probably  under  restraint.  Why  keep 
lalin  under  lock  and  key  after  the  search  had  been  carried 
ut  at  the  chateau?  Clearly  it  were  folly  to  suppose  that 
dignitary  of  the  Empire  could  be  kidnapped  and  the  affair 
ept  a  secret  for  long.  The  news  would  spread  so  swiftly 
lat  any  possible  advantage  to  be  gained  by  secrecy  would 
oon  be  at  an  end. 

To  these  objections,  Pigoult  replied  that  justice  could 
ever  fathom  all  the  motives  in  the  minds  of  scoundrels. 
There  were  points  that  were  never  cleared  up  between  the 
xamining  magistrate  and  the  criminal ;  there  were  depths 
f  conscience  in  which  no  human  power  could  throw  a 
ight,  unless  the  guilty  man  chose  to  confess. 

Grevin  and  Lechesneau  nodded  assent  to  this,  but  none 


1^8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

the  less  their  eyes  pored  on  the  darkness  through  which 
they  were  anxious  to  see. 

c  And  the  Emperor  pardoned  them  too !  ’  continued 
Pigoult,  turning  to  Grevin  and  Madame  Marion.  1  He 
struck  their  names  out  of  the  List,  though  they  were 
mixed  up  in  the  last  plot  against  him.’ 

Without  further  delay,  Lechesneau  sent  off  all  his  force 
of  gendarmerie  to  the  forest  and  the  Cinq-Cygne  valley. 
The  justice  of  the  peace  was  despatched  with  Giguet, 
who  became,  in  the  terms  of  the  Code,  his  auxiliary 
officer  of  police.  The  justice’s  instructions  were  to  col¬ 
lect  evidence  for  the  prosecution  in  the  commune  of 
Cinq-Cygne,  and  to  proceed,  if  necessary,  to  make  all  pre¬ 
liminary  inquiries.  To  save  time  Lechesneau  hurriedly 
dictated  and  signed  a  warrant  for  Michu’s  apprehension 
in  case  the  facts  bore  out  the  case  against  him.  Then 
so  soon  as  the  gendarmes  and  the  justice  had  started  off 
Lechesneau  went  back  to  the  important  work  of  issuing 
warrants  against  the  Simeuses  and  d’Hauteserres,  the  Code 
requiring  that  all  the  charges  against  the  delinquents  should 
be  enumerated  in  the  documents. 

Giguet  and  the  justice  of  the  peace  came  down  upoij 
Cinq-Cygne  so  quickly  that  they  fell  in  with  the  servant 
returning  home  from  Troyes,  arrested  them,  and  took  then 
before  the  mayor.  When  questioned,  they  answered  ii 
all  simplicity,  without  a  suspicion  of  the  importance  oJ 
the  answer,  that  permission  had  been  given  to  them  yes 
terday  to  spend  the  whole  day  at  Troyes.  In  answer  h 
the  justice  of  the  peace,  they  all  made  answer  alike  tha 
they  had  not  asked  for  the  holiday;  Mademoiselle  ha 
offered  it  to  them. 

The  judge  thought  these  depositions  so  important  the 
he  sent  Giguet  back  to  Gondreville  to  ask  Lechesneau  t 
come  over  himself  to  be  present  at  the  arrest  of  the  noble 
at  Cinq-Cygne,  while  he  proceeded  to  the  farm-house  t 
take  the  supposed  ringleader,  Michu,  by  surprise,  so  th; 


Corentin’s  Revenge  159 

II  the  arrests  might  be  made  simultaneously.  So  decisive 
id  these  new  elements  in  the  case  appear  that  Lechesneau 
darted  out  at  once,  with  a  parting  caution  to  Grevin  to 
eep  a  strict  watch  over  the  prints  left  by  the  horses’  hoofs 
1  the  park. 

Lechesneau,  Director  of  the  Jury,  knew  what  satisfac- 
[on  would  be  felt  in  Troyes  with  his  proceedings  against 
he  ci-devants ,  the  c  enemies  of  the  people,’  now  become 
he  Emperor’s  enemies.  In  such  circumstances,  a  magis- 
rate  readily  takes  mere  presumptions  for  evident  proofs. 
Nevertheless,  as  Lechesneau  drove  from  Gondreville  to 
^inq-Cygne,  in  the  Senator’s  own  carriage,  it  seemed  to 
urn  that  such  audacity  on  the  part  of  Michu  and  the 
'oung  people  was  giddy  to  the  last  degree,  and  scarcely 
vhat  might  have  been  expected  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
Z!ygne’s  intelligence.  Lechesneau  certainly  would  have 
isen  high  in  his  profession  but  for  the  weakness  which 
>rought  him  into  disgrace  in  a  fit  of  prudishness  on  the 
>art  of  the  Emperor.  He  thought  within  himself  that 
here  was  something  more  in  the  abduction  of  a  Senator 
:han  an  attempt  to  extort  a  renunciation  of  Gondreville. 

In  every  occupation  —  even  in  criminal  investigation 
—  there  is  something  which  may  be  called  the  professional 
conscience.  Lechesneau’s  present  perplexity  arose  out  of 
that  conscientiousness  with  which  a  man  sets  about  any 
work  that  he  loves,  be  he  artist,  man  of  science,  or  magis¬ 
trate.  For  which  very  reason,  the  accused  is  probably 
safer  with  a  judge  than  with  a  jury ;  a  magistrate  is  sus¬ 
picious  of  everything  but  reasoning,  whereas  a  jury  is  apt 
to  be  carried  away  by  fluctuations  of  sentiment.  Leches¬ 
neau  propounded  several  questions  to  himself,  with  a  view 
to  getting  some  satisfactory  solution  of  them  by  the  arrests. 

Though  all  Troyes  knew  already  that  Senator  Malin 
had  been  kidnapped,  the  news  had  not  reached  Arcis  by 
eight  o’clock ;  everybody  was  at  supper  when  the  gen¬ 
darmerie  and  the  justice  were  sent  for;  and  as  for  the 


160  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

valley  of  Cinq-Cygne,  it  was  impossible  that  any  one  there 
should  have  heard  of  it. 

And  so  the  chateau  was  again  surrounded  by  gendarmes. 
This  time,  however,  it  was  not  on  a  political,  but  a  crimi¬ 
nal  charge ;  and  the  compromise  that  it  is  sometimes  pos¬ 
sible  to  arrange  with  the  one  department  is  quite  impossible 
with  the  other. 

Laurence  had  only  to  tell  Marthe,  Catherine,  and  la 
Durieu  to  stay  in  the  chateau  and  neither  to  go  out  nor  to 
look  out  of  the  windows;  they  obeyed  her  to  the  letter 
The  horses  had  been  brought  as  far  as  the  hollow  lane 
opposite  the  breach  in  the  fosse.  Robert  and  Michu,  the 
strongest  of  the  group,  had  contrived  to  carry  the  bags  quietly 
down  through  the  gap  into  a  cellar  under  the  stairs  in  thd 
tower  called  Mademoiselle’s  Tower.  The  last  journey  was 
made  about  half-past  five,  and  Michu  and  the  four  gentle¬ 
men  at  once  proceeded  to  bury  the  hoard.  Laurence  anc 
the  d’Hauteserres  thought  it  expedient  to  wall  up  the  cellail 
and  Michu  with  Gothard’s  help  set  about  the  work 
Gothard  was  sent  to  the  farm-house  for  some  cement,  lef 
over  when  the  new  house  was  built,  and  Marthe  went  hom< 
to  give  him  the  bags  in  secret.  Michu’s  new  house  was  oi 
the  very  knoll  from  which  he  saw  the  gendarmes’  caps  tha 
November  night,  and  the  way  to  it  lay  along  the  hollov 
lane.  Michu,  being  ravenously  hungry,  did  his  work  s< 
quickly  that  the  place  was  walled  up  by  half-past  seven 
He  had  sent  Gothard  for  another  bag  of  cement,  and  find 
ing  that  he  did  not  want  it  after  all,  he  hurried  home  t 
stop  the  boy. 

Even  then  they  were  lying  in  wait  about  the  housej 
the  rural  policeman,  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  hi 
clerk  heard  his  footsteps  and  hid  themselves  till  he  wa 
safely  inside.  Some  way  off  he  saw  Gothard  with  th 
bag  of  cement  on  his  shoulders,  coming  toward  th 
chateau. 


Corentin’s  Revenge  161 

4  It  is  done,  boy/  he  shouted  ;  4  take  that  back,  and  come 
i  and  have  supper  with  us.’ 

Michu’s  brow  was  covered  with  perspiration,  his  clothes 
ere  soiled  with  cement  and  earth  from  the  stones  taken 
at  of  the  breach;  he  was  in  great  spirits  as  he  came  into 
le  kitchen  where  Marthe  and  her  mother  had  put  the 
>up  on  the  table  and  were  waiting  for  him. 

Just  as  Michu  turned  on  the  tap  to  wash  his  hands,  the 
istice  of  the  peace  appeared  with  his  clerk,  and  the  police- 
lan  behind  him. 

4  What  do  you  want  with  us,  M.  Pigoult  ? ’  asked 
lichu. 

4  In  the  name  of  the  Emperor  and  the  law,  I  arrest  you,’ 
burned  the  justice  of  the  peace ;  and  the  three  gendarmes 
ame  in,  bringing  Gothard  with  them.  Marthe  and  her 
lother  saw  the  metal  rims  of  the  gendarmes’  caps  and 
>oked  at  each  other  in  terror. 

4  Oh,  pshaw  !  What  for  ?  ’  asked  Michu,  sitting  down  to 
le  table.  —  4  Give  me  my  supper,’  he  said  to  his  wife,  4 1 
starving.’ 

The  justice  held  out  the  warrant. 

4  You  know  why  as  well  as  we  do,’  he  said,  beckoning 
)  the  clerk  to  come  forward  and  draw  up  the  report. 

4  Well,  Gothard,  what  are  you  gaping  at  ?  Do  you 
rant  your  supper  or  do  you  not  ?  Let  them  write  down 
heir  rubbish,’  said  Michu. 

4  Do  you  see  the  state  of  your  clothes  ?  ’  remarked  the 
istice.  4  You  cannot  ,Jeny  that  any  more  than  you  can 
eny  what  you  said  to  Gothard  outside  in  the  yard.’ 

Michu’s  wife  was  amazed  by  his  coolness.  He  ate 
oraciously  and  answered  no  questions ;  he  had  a  clear 
onscience  and  his  mouth  was  full.  A  dreadful  misgiving 
: ook  Gothard’s  appetite  away. 

4  Look  here,’  said  the  rural  policeman,  in  Michu’s  ear. 
What  have  you  done  with  the  Senator?  From  what 
hey  say,  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death  for  you.’ 


x6a  A  Gondreville  Mystery 


‘  Oh  !  my  God  !  ’  cried  Marthe.  She  had  overheard  the 
last  few  words,  and  dropped  down  as  if  thunder-struck. 

‘ Violette  must  have  played  us  some  ugly  trick!’  ex¬ 
claimed  Michu,  recollecting  Laurence  s  words. 

c  Oh !  so  you  knew  that  Violette  saw  you  ?  said  the 

justice. 

Michu  bit  his  lips  and  resolved  to  say  not  another  word. 
Gothard  followed  his  example.  The  justice  saw  that  it 
was  useless  to  try  to  extract  a  word  from  him,  Michu  : 
1  contrariness  ’  being  well  known  in  the  country-side ;  s( 
he  ordered  the  men  to  tie  his  hands  and  Gothard’s  also 
and  to  bring  them  to  the  chateau.  Then  he  went  to  joir 
the  Director  of  the  Jury. 

Laurence  and  the  rest  of  the  party  were  so  hungry,  am 
dinner  a  matter  of  such  extreme  interest,  that  none  of  then 
changed  their  dress,  but  went  straight  into  the  drawing 
room,  she  in  her  habit,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  in  the! 
white  doeskin  breeches  and  green  jackets.  Monsieur  an 
Madame  d’Hauteserre  were  both  anxious  enough.  Th 
old  gentleman  had  noticed  their  comings  and  goings,  t 
say  nothing  of  their  evident  want  of  confidence  in  bin 
for  Laurence  could  not  issue  instructions  to  the  eldc 
d’Hauteserres  as  to  the  rest  of  the  household.  So  whe 
one  of  his  sons  evaded  his  questions  and  took  refuge  i 
flight,  he  spoke  to  his  wife. 

‘  I  am  afraid  Laurence  has  been  cutting  out  some  moi 


i  What  have  you  been  hunting  to-day  ?  ’  asked  Madam 
d’Hauteserre,  turning  to  Laurence. 

‘  Ah !  some  day  you  shall  hear  about  the  mischie 
that  your  children  have  been  in,’  Laurence  answer* 


laughing.  , 

She  spoke  jestingly,  but  the  old  lady  shivered  at  the  word 
Catherine  announced  that  dinner  was  ready.  Laurem 
took  M.  d’Hauteserre’s  arm,  smiling  to  herself  at  t 
mischievous  trick  she  had  played  her  cousins,  for  oi 


Corentin’s  Revenge  163 

'  them  was  bound  to  offer  an  arm  to  old  Madame 
Hauteserre,  their  oracle  by  common  consent. 

The  Marquis  led  Madame  d’Hauteserre  to  her  place, 
he  Benedicite  was  said,  and  the  situation  grew  so  solemn 
lat  Laurence  and  her  cousins  could  feel  the  violent  throb- 
ng  of  their  hearts.  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  as  she  helped 
tern,  was  struck  with  the  Simeuses’s  anxious  expression 
id  the  agitation  in  Laurence’s  sheep-like  countenance. 

4  Something  unusual  has  happened  !  ’  exclaimed  the  lady, 
•oking  round  at  them. 

4  To  whom  do  you  speak  ?  ’  asked  Laurence. 

4  To  all  of  you.’ 

4  For  my  own  part,  mother,  I  am  as  ravenous  as  a  wolf/ 
kid  Robert. 

Madame  d’Hauteserre,  still  troubled  in  her  mind,  handed 
le  Marquis  a  plate  which  she  meant  for  his  younger 
rother. 

Ml  am  like  your  mother,’  she  said,  addressing  him.  4 1 
Continually  make  mistakes  in  spite  of  your  cravats.  I 
lought  I  was  helping  your  brother.’ 

a  4  You  have  helped  him  better  than  you  think  for,’  said 
foe  younger  Simeuse,  turning  paler.  4  He  is  the  Comte  de 
Cinq-Cygne.’ 

He,  poor  boy  that  had  been  so  merry,  was  to  be  sadder 
iow  for  the  rest  of  his  days ;  but  he  forced  a  smile  as  he 
ooked  at  Laurence,  and  shut  his  lifelong  regret  within 
timself.  In  a  moment  the  lover  became  the  brother. 

4  What !  ’  cried  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  4  has  the  Countess 
nade  her  choice  ?  ’ 

5  4  No,’  said  Laurence.  4  We  left  fate  to  act  for  us,  and 
>ou  were  the  instrument.’ 

She  told  the  history  of  the  morning’s  agreement,  and 
while  she  spoke  the  Marquis,  watching  his  brother’s  white 
ace,  longed  to  cry  out,  4  Take  her,  and  /  will  go  away  to 
lie  !  ’ 

c  Just  as  dessert  was  served,  some  one  outside  in  the  dark- 


164  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

ness  tapped  sharply  at  the  dining-room  window  on  the 
side  of  the  garden.  The  elder  d’Hauteserre  opened  it,  and 
admitted  the  cure.  His  breeches  had  been  torn  on  the 
park  railings. 

<•  Fly  !  ’  he  cried.  c  They  are  coming  to  arrest  you/ 
‘Why?’ 

4  I  do  not  know  that  yet ;  but  they  are  coming  to  take 
you  into  custody - ’ 

There  was  a  general  outburst  of  laughter  at  this. 

‘  We  have  done  nothing  !  ’  the  four  young  men  cried  out. 

4  Innocent  or  guilty,  take  horse  for  the  frontier.  When 
you  are  there  you  can  establish  your  innocence.  You  may 
get  over  a  condemnation  for  contempt  of  court,  but  there  is 
no  getting  over  a  conviction  obtained  by  popular  clamour, 
a  foregone  conclusion  from  the  first.  Do  you  remember 
what  President  de  Harlay  said  ?  —  “  If  I  were  accused  of 
carrying  off  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  the  first  thing  I 
should  do  would  be  to  run  away.”  ’ 

4  But  if  you  run  away,  do  you  not  acknowledge  that  you 
are  guilty  ?  ’  remonstrated  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse. 

4  Do  not  fly  !  ’  said  Laurence. 

4  Heroic  nonsense  as  usual,’  cried  the  cure,  in  despera¬ 
tion.  4  If  I  had  God’s  power  for  a  moment,  I  would  carry 
you  off.  But  if  they  find  me  here  in  this  state,  they  will 
turn  my  singular  visit  against  you  and  me ;  I  shall  escape 
by  the  same  way.  Consider  !  There  is  still  time.  You 
are  surrounded  in  all  other  directions,  but  they  forgot  the 
wall  of  the  parsonage  garden.’ 

The  cure,  poor  man,  was  scarcely  gone  before  the  court¬ 
yard  rang  with  the  clank  of  sabres  and  trampling  horse 
hoofs ;  the  Abbe  Goujet’s  advice,  it  seemed,  was  to  mee 
with  no  more  success  than  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  s 

The  younger  brother  turned  to  Laurence.  4  Ou 
common  existence  was  out  of  the  course  of  the  laws  of 
nature,’  he  said,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  4  and  our  love  is  ou 
of  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  too.  This  abnorma 


Corentin’s  Revenge  165 

jiing  has  won  your  heart.  Perhaps  it  is  because  natural 
iws  are  set  aside,  that  all  the  stories  of  the  lives  of  twins 
re  so  sad.  You  see  in  our  own  case  how  persistently  fate 
ogs  us.  Here  is  your  decision,  fatally  deferred/ 

Laurence,  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  heard  the  Director  of  the 
ury  speaking;  the  ominous  words  were  droning  in  her 
ars. 

4  In  the  name  of  the  Emperor  and  the  law,  I  arrest 
he  Sieurs  Paul  Marie  and  Marie  Paul  de  Simeuse,  Adrien 
nd  Robert  d’Hauteserre ! ’  He  turned  to  the  men  with 
tim  and  pointed  out  the  splashes  of  mud  on  the  clothes  of 
he  accused.  4  The  gentlemen  cannot  deny  that  they  have 
pent  part  of  the  day  on  horseback,’  he  said. 

c  Of  what  do  you  accuse  them  ?  ’  Mademoiselle  Cinq- 
Zygne  asked  haughtily. 

c  Do  you  not  take  Mademoiselle  into  custody  ?  ’  inquired 
3iguet. 

4  I  will  leave  her  out  on  bail,  until  the  evidence  against 
ler  has  been  examined  more  fully.’ 

Goulard  offered  bail,  simply  asking  the  Countess  to  give 
ler  word  of  honour  that  she  would  not  escape.  Laurence 
:rushed  the  sometime  huntsman  of  the  House  of  Simeuse 
vith  a  glance  so  disdainful  that  she  made  a  mortal  enemy 
}f  the  man.  The  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  tears  of  rage 
:hat  reveal  a  hell  of  inward  anguish.  The  four  nobles 
exchanged  stern  glances  and  stood  passive.  As  for  Monsieur 
md  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  in  their  terror  lest  Laurence 
and  the  young  people  had  been  deceiving  them,  they  had 
sunk  into  a  stupor  which  no  words  can  describe.  They 
had  passed  through  so  many  fears  for  their  children  and 
won  them  back  again,  and  now  they  sat  glued  to  their  arm¬ 
chairs,  staring  before  them  with  unseeing  eyes ;  listening, 
and  hearing  not  a  word. 

c  M.  d’Hauteserre,  is  it  necessary  to  ask  you  to  go  bail 
for  me  ?  ’  cried  Laurence ;  the  sound  of  her  voice  rang  out 
shrill  and  heart-searching  as  the  trumpet  of  doom  on  her 


1 66  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

old  guardian’s  ears.  He  understood  all.  He  brushed  the 
tears  from  his  eyes  and  replied  faintly:  — 

i  Pardon  me,  Countess  .  .  .  you  know  that  I  am  de-i 
voted  to  you,  body  and  soul.’ 

Lechesneau  had  been  impressed  at  first  by  finding  the, 
delinquents  quietly  at  dinner;  but  his  first  suspicions* 
returned  at  the  sight  of  Laurence’s  thoughtful  look,  and 
the  dazed  faces  of  the  old  people.  Laurence  was  trying  to 
guess  the  snare  set  for  them. 

c  Gentlemen,’  Lechesneau  said  civilly,  c  you  are  too  well 
bred  to  make  useless  resistance.  Will  you,  all  four  of  youJ 
come  with  me  to  the  stables?  Your  horses’  shoes  mustj 
be  removed  in  your  presence ;  they  may  prove  your  guilt 
or  innocence  in  the  trial,  and  will  be  of  importance  as  evi¬ 
dence.  Will  you  also  come  with  us,  Mademoiselle  ?  ’ 
Lechesneau  had  sent  for  the  Cinq-Cygne  blacksmith 
and  his  boy  as  experts.  While  this  operation  was  going 
forward  in  the  stables,  the  justice  of  the  peace  brought1 
Gothard  and  Michu  to  the  chateau.  The  work  of  tak¬ 
ing  off  the  horseshoes,  and  sorting  and  marking  them,  so 
as  to  compare  them  with  the  prints  left  in  the  park,  tookj 
some  time.  Nevertheless,  on  Pigoult’s  arrival,  Lechesneau 
left  the  accused  with  the  gendarmes,  and  went  back  to  the 
dining-room  to  dictate  the  preliminary  reports.  Pigoult 
pointed  out  the  state  of  Michu’s  clothes,  and  related  the 
circumstances  of  the  arrest. 

‘They  must  have  murdered  the  Senator  and  plastered 
him  up  in  a  wall  somewhere,’  concluded  the  justice  of  the 
peace. 

‘I  am  afraid  so,  now,’  replied  Lechesneau.  ‘Wherq 
did  you  get  the  cement?’  he  asked,  turning  to  Gothard, 
Gothard  began  to  cry. 

4  He  is  scared  of  the  law,’  said  Michu.  His  eyes  flashed 
fire;  he  looked  like  a  lion  caught  in  a  net. 

By  this  time  the  servants  were  released  by  the  mayor 
and  came  crowding  into  the  antechamber  to  find  Catherine 


Corentin’s  Revenge  167 

id  the  Durieus  crying  together.  From  them  they  learned 
e  importance  of  the  admission  they  had  made.  Every 
lestion  put  by  the  Director  of  the  Jury  or  Pigoult, 
othard  answered  with  sobs.  He  sobbed  so  much,  in 
ct,  that  something  like  an  attack  of  convulsions  came 
1,  and  frightened  them,  and  they  let  him  alone.  The 
tie  rogue,  when  he  saw  that  they  were  not  watching, 
oked  at  Michu  and  smiled.  Michu  gave  him  an  approv- 
g  glance.  Lechesneau  left  Pigoult,  and  went  out  to 
jrry  his  experts. 

There  was  a  pause,  then  Madame  d’Hauteserre  at  last 
irned  to  Pigoult.  ‘Can  you  explain  the  reason  of  the 
rrest,  Monsieur  ?  ’  she  asked. 

‘  The  gentlemen  are  accused  of  carrying  off  the  Senator 
y  main  force,  and  of  illegally  detaining  him  in  confine¬ 
ment;  for,  in  spite  of  appearances,  we  do  not  go  so  far  as 
>  suppose  that  they  have  taken  his  life.’ 

‘  And  what  penalty  is  incurred  by  such  a  crime  ?  ’  asked 
Id  d’Hauteserre. 

‘  Well,  since  the  laws  not  invalidated  by  the  Code  still 
emain  in  force,  the  penalty  is  death,’  replied  the  justice  of 
fie  peace. 

‘Death!’  cried  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  and  she  fainted 
way.  At  this  moment  the  cure  appeared  with  his  sister, 
vfademoiselle  Goujet  called  Catherine  and  la  Durieu. 

‘We  have  not  so  much  as  seen  your  damned  Senator ! 5 
oared  Michu. 

‘  Madame  Marion,  Madame  Grevin,  M.  Grevin,  the  Sen¬ 
ior’s  own  man,  and  Violette  cannot  say  as  much  for  you, 
eturned  Pigoult,  with  a  sour  smile  of  magisterial  conviction. 

‘  I  can  make  nothing  of  this,’  said  Michu.  The  answer 
tupefied  him.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  began  to  think 
hat  he  and  his  masters  had  been  entangled  in  some  plot 
yoven  to  take  them. 

1  Just  at  that  moment  the  party  returned  from  the  stables. 
Laurence  hurried  to  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  and  that  lady 


1 68  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

recovered  consciousness  to  say  to  her,  4  The  penalty  is 
death !  ’ 

‘Death!  ’  repeated  Laurence,  looking  round  at  the  four. 
The  word  spread  a  dismay,  which  Giguet,  as  Corentin’s 
pupil,  turned  to  advantage.  He  drew  the  Marquis  de 
Simeuse  to  a  corner  of  the  dining-room.  4  It  can  all  be 
arranged  even  yet,’  he  said.  4  Perhaps  it  is  only  a  joke. 
Why,  confound  it  all,  you  have  been  in  the  army;  be¬ 
tween  soldiers  all  is  understood.  What  have  you  done 
with  the  Senator  ?  If  you  have  taken  his  life,  there  is  no 
more  to  be  said ;  but  if  you  have  imprisoned  him  some¬ 
where,  give  him  up.  You  can  see  yourself  that  the  game 
is  up.  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  Director  of  the  Jury  will 
suppress  the  affair,  and  the  Senator  will  co-operate.’ 

4  We  cannot  understand  your  questions  in  the  very 
least,’  said  the  Marquis  de  Simeuse. 

4  If  you  take  that  tone,  the  thing  will  go  far,’  returned 
the  lieutenant. 

The  Marquis  turned  to  Laurence. 

4  We  are  going  to  prison,  dear  cousin,  but  do  not  be 
anxious ;  we  shall  come  back  again  in  a  few  hours’  time. 
There  is  some  misapprehension ;  it  will  be  cleared  up.’ 

4 1  wish  it  may,  gentlemen,  for  your  sake,’  said  Pigoult, 
making  a  sign  to  Giguet  to  remove  the  four  nobles  with 
Gothard  and  Michu.  4  Do  not  take  them  to  Troyes,’  he 
said  to  the  lieutenant.  4  Keep  them  at  the  station  at 
Arcis.  They  must  be  present  to-morrow,  with  daylight, 
when  the  horseshoes  are  compared  with  the  hoof-marks 
in  the  park.’ 

Before  Lechesneau  and  Pigoult  went,  they  examined 
Catherine,  Monsieur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  and  Lau¬ 
rence.  The  Durieus,  Marthe,  and  Catherine  declared 
that  they  had  not  seen  the  family  since  breakfast.  M. 
d’Hauteserre  stated  that  he  had  seen  them  at  three 
o’clock. 

At  midnight  Laurence  was  left  in  the  salon  with  Mon- 


Corentin’s  Revenge  169 

ur  and  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  and  the  Abbe  Goujet 
d  his  sister;  the  four  young  men  who  had  brought 
.  and  love  and  joy  to  the  chateau,  were  gone,  for  a 
lg  time  she  said  no  word,  and  no  one  ventured  to  break 
2  silence.  Never  was  grief  deeper  nor  more  complete, 
sigh  at  last  was  heard ;  it  came  from  Marthe,  forgotten 
a  corner.  She  rose  to  her  feet. 

‘  Death !  Madame.  .  .  .  They  will  just  kill  them, 
ough  they  are  innocent.’ 

C  what  have  you  done  ?  ’  said  the  cure.  And  Laurence 
se  and  went  without  a  word.  She  wanted  to  be  alone 
gather  up  her  strength  to  meet  this  unforeseen  disaster. 


Ill 


A  POLITICAL  TRIAL  IN  THE  TIME  OF  THI 
EMPIRE 

At  a  distance  of  thirty-four  years,  in  which  great  revolu 
tions  have  taken  place,  none  but  elderly  people  can  recol 
lect  the  prodigious  uproar  made  all  over  Europe  when 
Senator  of  the  Empire  was  kidnapped.  The  trial  of  th 
young  men  accused  of  the  act  roused  an  amount  of  intei 
est  and  curiosity  never  equalled,  save,  perhaps,  over  th 
case  of  Trumeau  (the  tradesman  of  the  Place  Sail 
Michel);  the  Widow  Morin,  under  the  Empire;  th 
Fualdes  and  Castaing  cases  under  the  Restoration ;  or  th 
trials  of  Madame  Lafarge  and  Fieschi  under  the  preser 
Government.  Such  an  attack  on  a  member  of  the  Senat 
brought  down  the  Emperor’s  wrath ;  and  the  tidings  of  tl 
arrest  of  the  delinquents  followed  hard  upon  the  news  c 
the  misdemeanour  and  the  negative  results  of  inquirie 
The  forest  had  been  searched  far  and  wide;  they  h; 
gone  all  over  the  Aube  and  the  neighbouring  department 
and  not  the  slightest  trace  of  their  passage,  not  a  sing 
clue  to  the  Comte  de  Gondreville’s  place  of  detentic 
could  be  found.  The  Minister  of  Justice  came  at  a  sun 
mons  from  the  Emperor  (after  obtaining  information  fro 
the  police  department),  and  explained  the  relative  positioi 
of  Malin  and  the  Simeuses  for  Napoleon’s  benefit ;  ai 
his  Majesty,  much  preoccupied  at  the  time  with  weigh 
matters,  was  inclined  to  find  a  solution  of  the  affair  in  t. 

antecedent  facts.  .  , 

‘  The  young  men  must  be  mad,’  he  said.  ‘  A  juri 

170 


A  Political  Trial 


171 

:onsult  like  Malin  is  sure  to  disavow  any  document  ex- 
orted  from  him  by  violence.  Keep  a  watch  over  these 
lobles,  and  find  out  how  they  set  about  the  release  of  the 
ionite  de  Gondreville.5 

The  Emperor  bade  them  proceed  as  quickly  as  possible 
n  dealing  with  what  he  regarded,  in  the  first  place,  as  an 
ittack  upon  his  institutions ;  a  fatal  example  of  refusal 
o  acquiesce  in  the  changes  brought  about  by  the  Revolu- 
ion ;  an  attempt  to  open  up  the  great  question  of  the 
National  lands,  and  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  that  fusion 
)f  parties  which  had  come  to  be  the  fixed  idea  of  his  home 
)olicy.  He  thought,  in  fact,  that  he  had  been  tricked 
)y  the  men  who  gave  their  promise  to  live  quietly. 

cFouche’s  prophecy  is  fulfilled,5  he  said,  remembering 
he  words  let  fall  two  years  ago  by  his  present  Minister 
)f  Police.  But  Fouche  had  spoken  at  the  time  under  the 
nfluence  of  the  impression  left  on  his  mind  by  Corentin’s 
*eport  of  Laurence. 

It  is  difficult  under  a  constitutional  government,  when 
lobody  takes  any  interest  in  a  blind,  deaf,  indifferent,  and 
hankless  State,  to  understand  the  impetus  that  a  word  from 
:he  Emperor  gave  to  his  administrative  machinery.  That 
)owerful  will  of  his  seemed  to  compel  other  things  beside 
men.  The  word  spoken,  the  Emperor  forgot  the  affair. 
The  Coalition  of  1806  took  him  by  surprise.  He  was 
:hinking  of  fresh  battles  to  fight ;  his  mind  was  taken  up 
vith  massing  his  regiments  so  as  to  strike  a  final  blow  at 
he  very  heart  of  the  Prussian  monarchy 3  but  his  desire  to 
;ee  prompt  justice  done,  found  a  response  in  the  mind  of 
ivery  magistrate  in  the  Empire.  They  saw  themselves  in 
i  precarious  position.  Cambaceres,  in  his  quality  of  Arch- 
:hancellor,  and  Regnier,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  were  even 
:hen  drawing  up  a  scheme  of  Tribunals  of  First  Instances, 
Imperial  Courts,  and  Courts  of  Cassation.  They  were 
discussing  questions  of  custom  right,  to  which  Napoleon 
justly  attached  so  much  importance  3  they  were  seeking  out 


ij2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

traces  of  the  parlements  done  away  with  at  the  Revolution 
and  revising  the  lists  of  clerks  and  officials.  Naturally 
therefore,  the  magistrates  in  the  department  of  the  Aub 
thought  that  any  proof  of  zeal  in  the  affair  of  the  kidnap 
ping  of  the  Comte  de  Gondreville  would  be  an  excellen 
recommendation.  And  Napoleon’s  supposition  forthwit 
became  a  certainty  for  courtiers  of  power  and  the  mass  o 
the  nation. 

Peace  still  prevailed  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  an 
in  France  people  were  unanimous  in  admiration  of  tb 
Emperor ;  he  cajoled  men  through  their  interests  and  var 
ity,  he  coaxed,  flattered,  and  conciliated  individuals  an 
public  bodies,  and  everything  else,  even  people’s  memorie 
Consequently  everybody  looked  upon  a  deed  of  violence  ; 
a  design  against  the  public  good ;  and  the  unfortunate  an 
guiltless  gentlemen  were  covered  with  general  opprobriun 
A  small  minority  of  nobles,  confined  to  their  estates,  deplore 
the  affair  among  themselves,  but  none  of  them  dared  to  ope 
their  mouths.  How,  indeed,  was  it  possible  to  stem  tl 
outburst  of  public  opinion  ?  The  bodies  of  the  eleven  me 
who  fell  in  1792,  shot  down  from  behind  the  window  shu 
ters  of  the  Hotel  de  Cinq-Cygne,  were  dragged  from  the 
graves,  and  the  whole  department  flung  them  at  the  heat 
of  the  accused.  The  emigres  as  a  class  would  wax  bol 
it  was  feared,  and  intimidate  the  buyers  of  their  proper^ 
by  forcible  protests  against  unjust  spoliation.  The  Simeus< 
and  d’Hauteserres  were  considered  to  be  brigands,  robber 
and  murderers ;  Michu’s  complicity  was  especially  fata 
Every  head  that  fell  in  the  department  during  the  Terroj 
had  been  cut  off  by  Michu  or  his  father-in-law ;  the  mo 
absurd  stories  were  current  about  him,  and  the  exasperatic 
was  so  much  the  more  lively  because  Malin  had  put  near 
every  functionary  in  the  Aube  into  his  place.  Not  a  sing 
generous  voice  was  uplifted  to  contradict  the  public  clamou 
The  unfortunate  prisoners,  in  fact,  had  no  legal  means  c 
combating  prejudice;  for  while  the  Code  of  Brumaire  c 


A  Political  Trial  173 

e  year  IV  submitted  the  indictment  and  the  judgment  to 
r0  separate  juries,  it  did  not  provide  the  accused  with  that 
eat  guarantee,  the  right  of  appeal  to  the  Court  of  Cassa- 
)n  if  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  a  trial  will  be  unfairly 
•nducted. 

On  the  day  after  the  arrests  were  made,  the  family  and 
rvants  at  Cinq-Cygne  were  summoned  to  give  evidence 
fore  the  jury  d' accusation.  Cinq-Cygne  was  left  in  the 
re  of  the  tenant,  under  the  supervision  of  the  abbe  and 
[ademoiselle  Goujet,  who  took  up  their  abode  there, 
[ademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  and  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Hauteserre  went  to  stay  in  Durieu’s  little  house  in  one 
the  great  straggling  suburbs  that  spread  about  the  town 
'  Troyes.  Laurence  saw  with  a  contraction  of  the  heart 
ie  fury  of  the  populace,  the  hatred  of  the  bourgeoisie,  the 
utility  of  the  administration ;  it  was  all  brought  home  to 
tv  in  the  many  little  incidents  which  always  befall  the 
latives  of  the  defendants  in  a  trial  held  in  a  country  town, 
istead  of  encouraging  or  compassionate  words,  she  heard 
mversations  meant  for  her  to  hear ;  a  dreadful,  clamorous 
-sire  for  vengeance.  Demonstrations  of  hate  took  the 
ace  of  the  strict  politeness  and  reserve  required  by  the 
:casion ;  and  most  of  all,  she  felt  the  isolation  that  any  one 
:els  in  such  a  case,  and  so  much  the  more  keenly  because 
Iversity  teaches  distrust.  Laurence  had  recovered  all  her 
rength.  Her  cousins’  innocence  was  evident,  she  despised 
te  crowd  too  much  to  be  frightened  by  its  silent  disapproval, 
ie  kept  up  her  companions’  courage,  thinking  all  the  while 
f  that  battle,  which  to  judge  from  the  rapidity  of  the  pro¬ 
cure,  must  very  soon  be  fought  out  in  the  criminal  court, 
ut  her  courage  was  to  sink  after  an  unexpected  blow. 

In  the  midst  of  their  troubles,  and  the  turn  of  the 
Dpular  feeling  against  them,  just  as  the  unhappy  family 
temed  to  be  alone  in  a  desert,  one  man  suddenly  grew 
*eat  in  Laurence’s  eyes,  and  showed  all  the  nobleness  of 
s  character.  This  was  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf. 


i y4  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

The  day  after  the  jury  d’ accusation  returned  a  true  bill,  wher 
the  indictment,  with  the  formula  Ozzz,  il y  a  lieu  written  a 
the  foot  by  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  was  sent  up  to  thi 
public  accuser,  and  the  warrant  was  converted  into  ar 
order  for  the  safe  custody  of  the  accused,  the  Marquis,  ii 
his  old-fashioned  caleche,  came  bravely  to  the  rescue.  Fore 
seeing  that  the  course  of  justice  was  certain  to  be  swift,  th 
head  of  the  house  had  hurried  to  Paris,  and  brought  bad 
with  him  one  of  the  shrewdest  and  most  upright  of  th 
procureurs  of  old  times.  For  ten  years  Bordin  had  bee: 
the  attorney  of  the  noblesse,  and  his  successor  was  th 
celebrated  Derville.  The  worthy  procureur  at  once  chos 
as  counsel  the  grandson  of  a  President  of  the  Parliament  o 
Normandy,  a  young  barrister  who  had  studied  under  hin 
and  was  aiming  at  an  appointment  (and,  in  fact,  after  th 
trial,  this  young  M.  de  Granville  was  nominated  to  a 
office  revived  by  the  Emperor,  and  became  deputy  publ: 
prosecutor  at  Paris,  and  one  of  the  most  famous  magistrate 
of  our  time). 

M.  de  Granville  took  up  the  case  as  an  opportunity  o 
distinguishing  himself  on  his  first  appearance  before  th 
public.  In  those  days,  barristers  ( avocats )  were  replace 
by  officially  appointed  counsel,  so  that  no  case  might  h 
left  undefended,  and  any  citizen  might  plead  the  cause  o 
innocence;  but  for  all  that,  the  accused  usually  employe 
a  barrister,  as  before. 

The  old  Marquis  was  startled  by  the  havoc  that  sorro 
had  wrought  in  Laurence ;  but  he  behaved  with  admirab 
taste  and  tact.  Not  a  word  did  he  say  of  wasted  advic 
He  introduced  Bordin  as  an  oracle  to  be  obeyed  to  tl 
letter,  and  young  M.  de  Granville  as  a  champion  in  who 
they  might  put  entire  confidence. 

Laurence  held  out  her  hand  to  the  Marquis ;  her  cordi 
grasp  charmed  him. 

‘  You  were  right,’  she  said. 

c  Will  you  listen  to  my  advice  this  time  ?  ’  he  asked. 


A  Political  Trial  175 

The  Countess  made  a  sign  of  assent ;  Monsieur  and 
ladame  d’Hauteserre  did  likewise. 

c  Very  well.  Come  to  my  house  ;  it  is  in  the  middle  of 
le  town  and  close  to  the  court-house.  You  and  your 
Dunsel  will  be  better  lodged  there  than  here,  where  you 
*e  huddled  up  together  and  much  too  far  from  the  scene 
f  action.  You  would  have  to  cross  Troyes  every  day.’ 

Laurence  accepted  the  offer.  M.  de  Chargeboeuf  took 
le  two  ladies  to  his  house,  and  all  through  the  trial  the 
!inq-Cygne  party  and  their  counsel  stayed  there.  After 
inner,  when  the  doors  were  shut,  Bordin  made  Laurence 
dl  the  whole  story  exactly  as  it  happened,  begging  her 
ot  to  leave  out  a  single  particular;  although  he  and  the 
3ung  lawyer  had  heard  it  already  in  part  from  the  Marquis 
aring  their  journey  from  Paris  to  Troyes.  Bordin  sat 
stening,  with  his  feet  to  the  fire,  without  the  slightest 
sumption  of  consequence.  As  for  the  counsel,  young 
1.  de  Granville,  he  was  divided  between  admiration  of 
lademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  and  the  attention  he  was 
aund  to  give  to  the  facts  of  the  case. 
c  Is  that  quite  all  ? ’  asked  Bordin,  when  Laurence  had 
>ld  the  whole  story  of  the  drama  down  to  that  day. 
c  Yes,’  said  she. 

The  deepest  silence  prevailed  for  some  minutes.  One 
f  the  most  solemn  scenes  in  a  man’s  life,  and  one  that 
ddom  comes  into  ordinary  experience,  was  taking  place 
1  that  room  in  the  Hotel  de  Chargeboeuf.  Every  case  is 
ied  by  counsel  before  it  comes  before  a  judge,  just  as 
rery  death  is  foreseen  by  the  doctor  before  the  final  strug- 
e  with  the  laws  of  nature.  Laurence,  Monsieur  and 
ladame  d’Hauteserre,  and  the  Marquis  sat  with  their 
res  fixed  upon  the  procureur's  dark  old  face,  with  its 
?ep  seams  left  by  the  small-pox.  Life  or  death  ?  —  he 
as  about  to  pronounce  the  word.  Laurence  glanced  at 
I.  de  Granville,  and  saw  that  he  looked  downcast. 
c  Well,  my  dear  Bordin?  ’  said  the  Marquis,  holding  out 


176  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

his  snuff-box,  which  the  procureur  took  in  an  absent) 
minded  fashion.  Bordin  rubbed  the  calves  of  his  legs  (hi 
wore  black  cloth  breeches  and  black  floss  silk  stockings; 
and  the  long  coat  of  the  eighteenth  century);  then  he  turned 
his  crafty  eyes  upon  his  clients,  but  there  was  a  misgivim 
in  their  expression  which  struck  a  chill  into  them. 

4  Am  I  to  dissect  this  case/  asked  he, 4  and  tell  you  frankl 
what  I  think  ? 5 

4  Pray  go  on,  Monsieur/  said  Laurence. 

4  All  that  you  have  done  with  good  intent  turns  again: 
you/  Bordin  proceeded  to  say.  4  You  cannot  save  you 
relatives ;  you  can  only  try  to  get  them  off  easily.  Th 
fact  that  you  told  Michu  to  sell  his  land  will  be  taken  2 
proof  positive  of  your  criminal  designs  upon  the  Senato 
You  sent  off  your  servants  to  Troyes  on  purpose  to  b 
alone ;  it  looks  so  much  the  more  probable  because  it  is  th 
truth.  The  elder  M.  d’Hauteserre  made  a  terrible  remar 
to  Beauvisage ;  it  will  ruin  you  all.  Something  that  yo 
yourself  said  in  your  own  courtyard  proves  that  you  hav 
borne  ill-will  to  Gondreville  for  some  time  past.  As  fc 
you,  indeed,  you  were  acting  as  sentinel  at  the  park  gat< 
when  the  thing  was  done ;  if  they  do  not  proceed  again 
you  it  is  simply  because  they  wish  to  avoid  an  element  c 
interest  in  the  case.’ 

4  The  case  is  not  defensible/  said  M.  de  Granville. 

4  So  much  the  less  so  because  the  truth  cannot  now  b 
told.  Michu,  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteser; 
are  bound  simply  to  assert  that  they  were  out  in  the  fo 
est  with  you  for  a  part  of  the  day,  and  that  they  breal 
fasted  at  Cinq-Cygne.  But  if  we  can  prove  that  yc 
were  all  there  at  three  o’clock,  the  time  of  the  deed,  wb 
are  the  witnesses  ?  Marthe,  wife  of  one  of  the  defendant 
the  Durieus  and  Catherine,  all  in  your  service,  and  Monsiei 
and  Madame  d’Hauteserre,  parents  of  two  of  the  accuse 
Such  witnesses  are  worthless ;  the  law  will  not  take  the 
testimony  against  you,  and  common  sense  rejects  the 


A  Political  Trial 


177 

idence  in  your  favour.  If  you  were  so  ill-advised  as  to 
y  that  you  had  gone  out  to  find  eleven  hundred  thousand 
ancs  in  gold  in  the  forest,  you  would  send  all  five  of 
em  to  the  hulks  as  robbers.  The  Public  Accuser,  the 
ry,  the  bench,  the  audience,  and  every  creature  in  France 
ould  think  that  you  stole  the  gold  from  Gondreville  and 
ut  him  up  in  order  to  do  the  deed.  Taking  the  indict- 
ent  as  it  stands  the  case  is  not  clear  against  you ;  but 
ven  the  simple  truth,  the  whole  thing  looks  absolutely 
ansparent;  the  jury  will  think  that  the  robbery  clears  up 
ery  obscure  point,  for  a  Royalist  means  a  brigand  nowa- 
tys.  As  it  stands  the  case  points  to  an  act  of  revenge  not 
admissible  in  the  political  situation.  The  accused  have 
curred  the  extreme  penalty,  but  that  is  no  disgrace  in  peo- 
e’s  eyes ;  whereas  if  you  bring  the  abstraction  of  specie 
to  the  affair,  it  must  seem  an  unlawful  proceeding,  and  you 
ill  lose  a  certain  amount  of  interest  that  the  public  takes 
the  condemned,  so  long  as  the  crime  appears  excusable, 
at  the  very  beginning  you  could  have  produced  your  map 
the  forest,  and  shown  the  hiding-places,  the  tin  canisters, 
td  the  money,  so  as  to  account  for  your  day,  you  might 
>ssibly  have  got  off  before  impartial  magistrates  ;  but  as 
ings  are,  silence  must  be  kept.  God  send  that  none  of 
e  defendants  have  compromised  the  case ;  but  we  shall 
e  what  we  can  make  out  of  their  examination.’ 

Laurence  wrung  her  hands  despairingly  and  raised  her 
es  to  heaven  in  her  distress;  the  depths  of  the  gulf  into 
hich  her  cousins  had  fallen  were  opened  out  before  her 
r  the  first  time.  The  Marquis  and  M.  de  Granville  both 
proved  Bordin’s  terrible  discourse.  Old  d’Hauteserre 
as  crying. 

c  Why  did  you  not  listen  to  the  Abbe  Goujet,  when  he 
anted  them  to  fly?  ’  Madame  d’Hauteserre  cried  in  exas- 
ration. 

1 4  Ah  !  ’  exclaimed  Bordin.  c  If  you  could  have  saved 
'em  and  did  not  do  so  their  death  will  lie  at  your  door. 


iy8  A  Goridreville  Mystery- 

Judgment  for  contempt  of  court  gains  time.  And  wit 
time  the  innocent  clear  up  their  affairs.  This  is  the  black 
est-looking  case  I  have  ever  seen  in  my  life,  and  I  hav 
seen  some  tolerably  crooked  ones,  too.’ 

‘  It  is  inexplicable  for  everybody,  even  for  us,’  adde 
M.  de  Granville.  ‘If  the  accused  are  not  guilty  somebod 
else  has  done  this.  Five  people  don’t  come  up  by  magi 
in  a  place,  nor  are  their  horses  shod  exactly  in  the  san 
way  as  the  horses  of  the  accused,  nor  do  they  put  Malin  i 
a  pit,  and  make  up  to  resemble  the  MM.  de  Simeus 
d’Hauteserre,  and  Michu,  on  purpose  to  ruin  them.  T1 
persons  unknown,  the  real  delinquents,  must  have  h; 
some  motive  for  slipping  into  the  skins  of  five  innoce: 
men ;  and  if  we  are  to  find  them  and  discover  any  trace 
we,  like  the  government,  should  want  a  system  of  dete 
tives  and  a  pair  of  eyes  in  every  commune  for  twen 
leagues  round - ’ 

‘  Which  is  out  of  the  question,’  said  Bordin,  ‘  so  it 
useless  to  think  of  it.  Never  since  justice  was  inventi 
has  any  community  found  out  how  to  put  at  the  dispos 
of  the  wrongfully  accused  the  power  that  the  magistra 
can  use  against  crime.  The  machinery  of  the  judicial  sy 
tem  is  at  the  disposal  of  the  prosecution  but  not  of  tl 
defence.  The  defence  has  neither  detectives  nor  polic 
the  power  of  society  is  not  available  to  prove  innocence; 
is  used  to  prove  guilt.  Innocence  has  argument  only  as 
resource ;  and  reasoning  that  carries  weight  with  the  juc 
cial  mind  is  often  thrown  away  upon  the  prejudiced  ed 
of  the  jury.  The  whole  country  is  against  you.  The  eig 
jurymen  who  returned  a  true  bill  were  every  one  of  the 
proprietors  of  National  land.  The  jury  de  jugement  Vi 
likewise  consist  of  officials  or  buyers  and  sellers  of  Natior 
lands.  In  short,  we  shall  have  a  malignant  jury  on  Malii 
case,  and  therefore  a  complete  system  of  defence  is  a  nect 
sity;  keep  to  it  and  die  in  your  innocence.  You  will 
condemned.  We  shall  appeal  to  the  Court  of  Cassatic 


A  Political  Trial  179 

id  we  will  try  to  gain  time  there.  In  the  meantime  I 
in  collect  proof,  and  there  is  still  the  appeal  to  mercy  left, 
'here  you  have  the  anatomy  of  the  case  and  my  opinion 
1  it.  If  we  win  the  day  (for  anything  is  possible  in  a 
)urt  of  law)  it  will  be  a  miracle ;  but  of  all  counsel  that  I 
low,  yours  is  most  likely  to  work  a  miracle  and  I  will 
fip  him.’ 

c  The  Senator  is  sure  to  have  the  key  to  the  enigma,’ 
Ided  M.  de  Granville  ;  4  if  any  one  bears  you  a  grudge  you 
ways  know  who  it  is,  and  why.  Here  you  see  a  man 
aving  Paris  at  the  end  of  winter,  coming  alone  to  Gon- 
eville,  shutting  himself  up  with  his  notary,  and,  as  you 
ay  say,  playing  into  the  hands  of  five  men  who  kidnap 
m.’ 

4  His  behaviour,  certainly,  is  at  least  as  extraordinary  as 
irs,’  said  Bordin ;  4  but  how  are  we  to  change  our  position 
om  the  accused  to  accusers,  when  the  whole  country  is 
;ainst  us  ?  You  need  good-will  to  do  it,  and  the  help  of 
e  Government,  and  a  thousand  times  more  proof  than  in  an 
•dinary  case.  I  can  see  malice  aforethought  of  the  very 
ibtlest  kind  in  our  unknown  enemies;  they  know  how 
[ichu  and  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  stand  with  regard  to 
[alin.  To  say  not  a  word,  to  take  nothing!  —  there  is 
udence  for  you.  They  are  anything  but  common  crimi- 
ils  behind  those  masks,  I  can  see  !  But  imagine  yourself 
ying  such  things  as  this  to  the  sort  of  jury  they  will  give 
» ! 

Laurence  was  amazed  and  confused  by  this  perspicacity 
private  affairs,  the  impersonal  clear-sightedness  which 
akes  barristers  and  some  magistrates  so  great.  His 
morseless  logic  clutched  at  her  heart. 

4  Not  ten  criminal  cases  out  of  a  hundred  are  thoroughly 
vestigated  in  a  court  of  law;  and  in  a  good  third  proba- 
Y  the  mystery  is  never  cleared  up.  There  are  cases 
hich  remain  inscrutable  for  the  prosecution  and  the  de- 
nce,  the  law  and  the  public,  and  yours  is  one  of  them. 


180  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

As  for  his  Majesty,  even  if  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  ha< 
never  wished  to  overturn  his  Government,  he  will  no 
interfere,  he  has  other  fish  to  fry.  But  who  the  devil  bear 
Malin  a  grudge  ?  and  why  ?  ’ 

Bordin  and  M.  de  Granville  looked  at  one  anothei 
They  looked  as  though  they  doubted  whether  Laurenc 
had  told  the  truth ;  and  among  all  the  many  painful  ex 
periences  during  the  trial,  that  moment  of  poignant  anguis 
was  the  worst.  She  looked  at  her  counsel,  and  their  susp 
cions  died  away. 

The  next  day  the  report  of  the  examination  was  in  th 
counsel’s  hands,  and  they  were  allowed  to  communicat 
with  the  accused.  Bordin  informed  the  family  that  th 
accused,  as  upright  men,  4  were  keeping  up  well,’  in  prc 
fessional  phrase. 

4  M.  de  Granville  is  going  to  defend  Michu,’  sa^ 
Bordin. 

4  Michu?  —  ’  cried  M.  de  Chargeboeuf,  surprised  at  tl 
change  of  plan. 

4  He  is  the  heart  of  the  affair,  and  that  is  where  t\ 
danger  lies,’  returned  Bordin. 

4  If  he  is  the  most  exposed,  the  thing  seems  fair,’  crie 
Laurence. 

4  We  can  see  a  few  chances,’  said  M.  de  Granville, 4  an! 
we  shall  study  them  thoroughly.  If  it  is  possible  to  g< 
them  off,  it  will  be  because  M.  d’Hauteserre  told  Mich 
to  mend  one  of  the  posts  in  the  fence  by  the  hollow  wa 
and  mentioned  that  a  wolf  had  been  in  the  forest.  In 
criminal  court  all  turns  upon  the  pleading,  and  the  plea< 
ing  turns  on  little  things  that  may  become  immense,  as  yc 
will  see.’ 

Then  Laurence  sank  into  a  mental  prostration  that  inv; 
riably  deadens  the  soul  of  every  energetic  person,  when 
is  apparent  that  nothing  they  can  do  is  of  any  avail.  Th 
was  no  question  of  compassing  the  downfall  of  a  man  or 
government  with  the  aid  of  a  devoted  band  of  men ;  he 


A  Political  Trial 


1 8 1 


as  no  scope  for  fanatical  zeal  enveloped  in  dark  mystery. 
11  classes  were  up  in  arms  against  her  and  her  cousins.  It 
impossible,  single-handed,  to  break  open  a  prison;  nor  can 
>u  effect  a  rescue  when  the  whole  population  is  hostile  to 
e  prisoners,  and  the  police  are  put  on  their  mettle  by  the 
pposed  audacity  of  the  accused.  Young  M.  de  Granville 
as  alarmed  by  the  stupor  that  came  over  the  high-spirited, 
merous  girl,  a  stupor  which  her  appearance  exaggerated, 
e  tried  to  raise  her  courage,  but  she  answered,  c  I  am 
aiting  and  suffering  in  silence.’ 

The  words  spoken  in  such  a  tone,  with  such  a  look  and 
isture,  were  among  the  sublime  things  that  would  be 
mous  if  spoken  on  a  wider  stage.  A  few  minutes 
iterwards  old  d’Hauteserre  said  to  the  Marquis  de 
hargeboeuf :  — 

c  The  trouble  that  I  have  taken  for  my  two  unlucky 
>ys !  I  had  saved  till  there  was  an  income  of  nearly 
ght  thousand  livres  for  them,  from  investments  in  the 
nds.  If  they  had  only  chosen  to  go  into  the  service 
ey  would  have  taken  good  positions  and  might  have 
arried  very  well  at  this  day.  And  here  are  all  my  plans 
)ne  to  wreck  and  ruin  !  ’ 

c  How  can  you  think  of  their  interests,’  said  his  wife, 
vhen  honour  and  life  is  involved  ?  ’ 

c  M.  d’Hauteserre  thinks  of  everything,’  said  the  Marquis. 

While  the  party  from  Cinq-Cygne  was  waiting  for  the 
ial  to  come  on  in  the  criminal  court,  and  making  fruit- 
ss  applications  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  prisoners,  some- 
iing  of  the  greatest  importance  was  going  on  out  of 
yht  at  the  chateau.  Marthe  had  made  her  deposition 
Tore  the  jury  d  accusation,  but  the  Public  Accuser  thought 
lat  her  evidence  was  not  worth  bringing  into  the  criminal 
>urt.  The  poor  woman  sat  in  the  drawing-room  at  Cinq- 
ygne,  keeping  Mademoiselle  Goujet  company;  she  had 
ink,  like  many  persons  of  extreme  sensibility,  into  a  kind 


1 82  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

of  apathy  pitiful  to  see.  To  her,  as  to  the  cure,  and  in 
fact  to  anybody  else  who  did  not  know  how  the  accused 
had  spent  that  day,  their  innocence  seemed  doubtful, 
There  were  moments  when  Marthe  thought  that  Michu^ 
with  his  masters  and  Laurence,  had  wreaked  their  revenge 
on  the  Senator.  The  unhappy  wife  knew  Michu’s  devo¬ 
tion  well  enough  to  see  that  of  all  the  accused  he  ran  th^ 
greatest  danger,  both  on  account  of  his  past  and  the  share 
that  he  must  have  had  in  carrying  out  the  present  affair 
The  Abbe  Goujet,  his  sister,  and  Marthe  lost  themselves 
among  the  probabilities  to  which  this  opinion  gave  rise,  bu 
by  dint  of  dwelling  on  these  thoughts  their  minds  begar 
to  attach  a  certain  significance  to  them.  The  condition  of 
suspended  judgment  required  by  Descartes  is  as  hard  tc 
obtain  in  the  human  mind  as  a  vacuum  in  nature;  ant 
the  mental  process  which  secures  the  result  is  something 
as  abnormal  and  artificial  as  the  action  of  an  air-pump 
People  have  an  opinion  of  some  sort  under  any  circum 
stances.  And  Marthe  was  so  afraid  that  the  accused  wer 
guilty  that  her  dread  amounted  to  a  belief.  That  fram< 
of  mind  proved  fatal. 

Five  days  after  the  arrest,  just  as  she  was  going  t< 
bed  about  ten  o’clock,  she  heard  her  name  called  froq 
the  courtyard;  her  mother  had  walked  over  from  th 
farm. 

c  There  is  a  workman  come  from  Troyes  with  a  messag 
for  you  from  Michu,’  she  said ;  c  he  is  waiting  for  you  ii 
the  hollow  way.’ 

Both  the  women  took  the  short  cut  through  the  bread: 
It  was  so  dark  in  the  lane  that  Marthe  could  only  see 
man’s  form  looming  through  the  shadows. 

c  Speak,  madam,  so  that  I  may  know  if  you  really  ar 
Madame  Michu,’  said  a  somewhat  uneasy  voice. 
c  I  certainly  am.  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  ’ 
c  Good,’  said  the  stranger.  c  Give  me  your  hand  ;  do  nc 
be  afraid  of  me.’  Then  he  bent  forward  and  whisperec 


A  Political  Trial 


*83 

Vlichu  sent  me  with  a  word  or  two  for  you.  I  am  one 
the  jailers ;  if  they  find  out  that  I  have  been  absent  it 
ill  be  the  ruin  of  us  all.  Trust  me.  Your  good  father 
und  me  my  place  in  time  past;  so  Michu  counted 
1  me/ 

He  slipped  a  letter  into  Marthe’s  hand,  and  vanished 
nong  the  trees  without  waiting  for  an  answer.  Some- 
ing  like  a  shiver  ran  through  Marthe  as  she  thought 
at  now,  no  doubt,  she  should  know  the  secret.  She 
n  to  the  farm  with  her  mother,  and  locked  herself  in 
read  the  letter. 

% 

4  My  dear  Marthe, —  You  may  reckon  on  the  discre- 
m  of  the  bearer;  he  can  neither  read  nor  write.  He 
one  of  the  staunchest  Republicans  of  the  Babeuf  con- 
>iracy.  Your  father  often  made  him  useful,  and  he 
oks  on  the  Senator  as  a  traitor.  Well,  now,  dear  wife, 
e  have  shut  up  the  Senator  in  the  vault  where  the  mas- 
rs  were  hidden  once  before.  The  wretch  has  only 
ctuals  enough  for  five  days,  and  as  it  is  to  our  interest 
lat  he  should  live,  take  him  provisions  to  last  for  another 
ve  days  at  least,  as  soon  as  you  have  read  these  few 
les.  The  forest  is  certain  to  be  watched,  so  be  as  care- 
il  as  we  used  to  be  when  the  young  gentlemen  were  in 
ding.  Do  not  speak  to  Malin ;  do  not  say  one  single 
ord  ;  and  put  on  one  of  our  masks ;  you  will  find  it  lying 

I  the  cellar  steps.  You  must  keep  the  most  absolute 
lence  on  this  secret  that  I  am  obliged  to  tell  you.  Not 
word  of  it  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  or  she 
ight  show  the  white  feather.  Fear  nothing  for  me. 
/e  are  sure  of  coming  safely  out  of  this  affair,  and  if  it 
>mes  to  that,  Malin  will  save  us.  Lastly,  I  need  not 

II  you  to  burn  this  letter  as  soon  as  you  have  read  it. 

‘  any  one  saw  a  single  line  of  it,  it  might  cost  me  my 
iad.  Most  lovingly  yours, 


c  Michu/ 


184  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

The  only  persons  who  knew  of  the  existence  of  th< 
hiding-place  in  the  mound  in  the  forest  were  Michu 
Francois,  the  four  nobles,  Laurence,  and  Marthe  herself 
so,  at  least,  Marthe  was  certain  to  think,  for  her  husban< 
had  said  nothing  to  her  of  his  encounter  with  Peyrade  an< 
Corentin.  The  letter  could  only  come  from  Michu,  an< 
besides,  it  seemed  to  be  written  and  signed  by  him.  Ii 
Marthe  had  gone  at  once  to  her  mistress  and  the  tw< 
lawyers,  who  knew  that  the  accused  were  not  guilty,  th 
crafty  procureur  might  have  gained  some  light  on  th 
treacherous  stratagem  that  had  taken  his  clients ;  but 
like  most  women,  Marthe  acted  on  her  first  impulse,  an 
saw  the  force  of  the  obvious  considerations.  She  threv] 
the  letter  into  the  fire.  Yet,  some  unaccountable  flas 
of  prudence  led  her  to  rescue  the  blank  half  of  the  shee 
and  the  first  few  lines.  There  was  nothing  there  to  com 
promise  any  one.  She  sewed  the  scrap  of  paper  into  he 
dress. 

Then  she  thought  with  no  little  dismay  that  the  pris 
oner  had  been  without  food  for  twenty-four  hours,  an 
resolved  to  take  meat  and  bread  and  wine  to  the  vau! 
that  very  night.  Curiosity  and  humanity  alike  forbad 
her  to  put  off  the  errand  till  to-morrow.  She  heated  th 
oven  to  bake  a  couple  of  round  loaves,  which  she  mad 
herself,  and  with  her  mother’s  help  prepared  a  gam 
pasty  and  a  rice  pudding,  and  roasted  a  couple  of  fowk 
About  half-past  two  that  morning,  she  packed  the  prc 
visions  and  two  bottles  of  wine  in  a  basket,  strapped 
about  her  shoulders,  and  set  off  through  the  forest,  takinj 
Couraut  with  her.  The  dog  made  an  admirable  scou 
scenting  a  stranger  at  a  great  distance,  and  returning 
his  mistress  with  a  low  growl,  and  muzzle  turned  to  th 
dangerous  quarter. 

It  was  nearly  three  o’clock  that  morning  when  Marth 
reached  the  pool  and  left  Couraut  on  guard.  It  too 
nearly  half  an  hour  to  move  the  stones  from  the  opening 


A  Political  Trial 


i85 

he  found  the  mask  on  the  step  as  the  letter  said,  and 
ntered  the  vault  with  a  dark  lantern.  Apparently  the 
enator’s  imprisonment  had  been  arranged  a  long  while 
eforehand.  There  was  an  opening  which  Marthe  had 
lot  seen  on  former  visits;  a  hole  about  a  foot  square  had 
>een  roughly  contrived  in  the  door,  while  the  bolt  was 
ecured  by  a  padlock,  lest  Malin,  with  a  prisoner’s  time 
nd  patience  at  his  disposal,  should  succeed  in  reaching  it 
rom  within. 

The  Senator  had  risen  from  his  bed  of  moss  and  heaved 
.  sigh;  he  guessed  at  the  sight  of  a  masked  figure  that  he 
vas  not  yet  to  be  set  at  liberty.  He  watched  Marthe  as 
veil  as  he  could  by  the  uncertain  light  of  the  dark  lantern 
ill  at  last  he  recognised  her.  He  knew  her  by  her  dress, 
ler  stout  figure,  and  her  movements,  and  when  she  passed 
he  pasty  through  the  hole  he  let  it  fall  to  catch  her  by  the 
lands.  Swiftly  as  might  be  he  tried  to  pull  two  rings  from 
ler  fingers,  her  wedding-ring  and  a  little  keepsake  given 
ler  by  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne. 

c  You  cannot  deny  that  you  are  Madame  Michu,  my 
lear  madam,’  he  exclaimed. 

At  the  touch  of  the  Senator’s  fingers,  Marthe  clenched 
ler  fist  and  dealt  him  a  vigorous  blow  in  the  chest.  Then, 
vithout  a  word,  she  cut  a  sufficiently  strong  stick,  and  the 
Jenator  received  the  rest  of  his  provisions  on  the  end  of  it. 

4  What  do  they  want  with  me  ?  ’  he  asked. 

Marthe  hurried  away  without  replying.  She  had  nearly 
eached  home,  towards  five  o’clock,  when  Couraut  gave 
varning  of  the  unwelcome  presence  of  some  one  on  the 
kirts  of  the  forest.  Retracing  her  steps,  she  went  toward 
he  lodge  that  had  been  her  home  for  so  many  years ;  but 
.s  she  came  out  into  the  avenue  the  Gondreville  park- 
:eeper  saw  her  in  the  distance,  and  she  at  once  decided  to 
;o  straight  toward  him. 

‘You  are  out  very  early,  Madame  Michu,’  was  his 
greeting. 


1 86  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  We  are  so  unlucky  that  I  have  to  do  a  servant’s  work, 
myself,’  she  said.  c  I  am  going  to  Bellache  for  some 
seeds.’ 

c  Then  have  you  no  seeds  at  Cinq-Cygne  ?  ’  asked  he. 

Marthe  did  not  answer.  She  went  on  to  Bellache  and 
asked  Beauvisage  to  let  her  have  several  kinds  of  seeds. 
c  M.  d’Hauteserre  had  told  her  to  try  a  change  of  strain,’ 
she  said.  Marthe  had  no  sooner  gone  than  the  Gondre¬ 
ville  keeper  came  over  to  the  farm  to  know  why  she  had 
been  there. 

Six  days  afterwards  Marthe  took  the  provisions  at  mid¬ 
night,  so  as  to  avoid  keepers.  She  had  learned  prudence. 
Evidently  they  were  watching  the  forest.  A  third  time 
she  took  food  to  the  Senator.  The  trial  had  begun,  and  it 
was  with  something  like  panic  that  she  listened  while  the 
cure  read  the  report  aloud. 

She  took  the  abbe  aside,  made  him  swear  to  keep  her 
secret  as  if  it  were  told  in  confession,  showed  him  the 
rescued  fragments  of  Michu’s  letter,  and  told  him  where 
the  Senator  lay  hidden.  The  abbe  asked  at  once  whether 
Marthe  had  other  letters  in  her  husband’s  handwriting  to 
compare  with  the  burnt  scrap ;  and  Marthe  went  back  to 
the  farm  on  this  errand,  to  find  a  summons  to  appear  as  a 
witness  in  the  case.  When  she  came  back  to  the  chateau, 
she  heard  that  the  Abbe  Goujet  and  his  sister  had  been 
likewise  summoned  by  the  defence,  and  all  three  of  them 
were  obliged  to  set  out  at  once  for  Troyes.  In  this  mannei 
all  the  actors  in  the  drama,  and  even  those  that  might  be 
called  the  supers,  were  all  assembled  on  the  stage  where  the 
fate  of  two  families  was  at  stake. 

There  are  very  few  places  in  France  where  the  sur¬ 
roundings  of  justice  contribute  to  that  impressiveness 
which  should  never  be  lacking.  Religion  and  kingship 
apart,  is  not  the  judicial  system  the  most  important  piece 
of  social  mechanism  ?  Everywhere,  even  in  Paris,  the 
shabbiness  and  bad  arrangement  of  the  premises  and  the 


A  Political  Trial  187 

ick  of  a  proper  setting  diminish  the  effect  of  the  enormous 
ower  of  the  law  upon  the  imagination  of  a  people  more 
ainglorious,  more  fond  of  spectacular  display  in  public  build- 
igs,  than  any  other  nation  of  modern  times. 

The  arrangements  are  almost  the  same  everywhere, 
ou  enter  a  long  rectangular  hall,  with  a  desk  covered  with 
reen  baize  at  the  further  end  on  the  slightly  raised  platform 
rhere  the  judges  sit  in  ordinary  arm-chairs.  The  Public 
tccuser’s  seat  is  placed  to  the  left,  just  beyond  the  jury- 
ox,  a  space  enclosed  along  the  wall,  and  provided  with 
hairs  for  the  jury.  The  accused,  and  the  policemen  on 
uty  sit  on  a  bench  in  a  similar  enclosed  space  against 
hie  opposite  wall,  the  counsel  for  the  defence  is  immedi- 
tely  below,  and  in  front  of  the  prisoners.  Below  the 
latform,  at  a  table  covered  with  documents  relating  to  the 
ase,  sits  the  clerk  of  assize;  and  (before  the  Emperor 
emodelled  the  courts)  the  commissary  for  the  government 
nd  the  Director  of  the  Jury  used  to  sit  each  at  a  table  on 
ither  side  of  the  judges’  desk.  Two  ushers  of  the  court 
over  about  in  the  space  left  for  witnesses.  A  wooden 
talustrade  connects  the  jury-box  with  the  dock  at  the 
3wer  end,  forming  an  enclosure  where  benches  are  placed 
or  witnesses  that  have  given  their  evidence,  and  a  few 
Privileged  auditors ;  while  a  shabby  gallery  above  the 
ntrance  door,  and  opposite  the  judges,  is  reserved  for  the 
ccommodation  of  the  authorities,  and  ladies,  and  others 
dmitted  by  the  President  who  regulates  these  matters. 
Vs  for  the  unprivileged  public,  they  are  allowed  to  stand 
n  the  space  between  the  wooden  balustrade  and  the 
ntrance. 

The  Criminal  Court  of  Troyes  looked  like  any  tribunal 
r  assize  court  of  the  present  day.  But  in  1806,  neither 
he  President  nor  the  four  judges  who  composed  the  court, 
tor  the  Public  Accuser,  nor  the  Director  of  the  Jury,  nor  any 
•ne  else  except  the  gendarme  wore  any  distinctive  dress  or 
>adge  of  office  to  relieve  the  general  bareness  of  the  place, 


1 88  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

and  tolerably  insignificant  countenances.  The  crucifix 
was  lacking,  with  its  moral  lesson  for  the  judges  and  the 
accused.  Everything  was  dismal  and  commonplace.  The 
pomp  and  circumstance  so  necessary  in  the  interests  of  the 
body  social,  perhaps  afford  a  certain  solace  to  the  criminal. 
People  flocked  eagerly  to  the  trial,  as  they  always  havej 
done  on  such  occasions,  and  always  will  do,  so  long  as 
manners  and  customs  remain  unreformed ;  so  long  as 
France  fails  to  discern  that  while  publicity  is  by  no  means 
secured  by  the  admission  of  the  public,  the  trial,  on  the 
other  hand,  becomes  an  ordeal,  painful  beyond  measure ; 
how  painful,  no  legislator  can  have  imagined  or  it  would 
never  have  been  inflicted.  Manners  and  customs  are 
often  more  cruel  than  the  law.  The  manners  of  the  time 
are  the  outcome  of  human  nature  ;  the  law  is  framed  by  the 
intellect  of  the  nation,  and  customs  not  seldom  irrational 
are  stronger  than  law. 

A  mob  had  gathered  about  the  court-house.  The  Pres¬ 
ident  was  obliged  to  have  the  doors  guarded  by  the  mili¬ 
tary,  as  is  usual  during  sensational  trials.  Inside,  the 
space  between  the  door  and  the  balustrade  was  crowded 
with  people  so  tightly  packed  that  they  could  scarcely 
breathe. 

M.  de  Granville  appeared  for  Michu,  and  Bordin 
for  the  MM.  de  Simeuse,  while  a  local  barrister  rep¬ 
resented  Gothard  and  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre,  the  least 
compromised  among  the  accused.  All  three  lawyer^ 
were  at  their  posts  before  the  proceedings  began.  Theiij 
faces  inspired  confidence;  a  doctor  never  allows  a  patient 
to  see  his  misgivings,  and  a  lawyer  always  shows  his 
client  a  hopeful  countenance.  These  are  the  rare  cases 
when  insincerity  becomes  a  virtue. 

There  was  a  murmur  in  favour  of  the  four  young  men 
when  the  prisoners  came  into  court,  looking  somewhat 
paler  for  the  twenty  days  of  confinement  and  suspense. 


A  Political  Trial  189 

Hhe  close  resemblance  between  the  twin  brothers  ex¬ 
ited  the  highest  degree  of  interest  in  them.  Perhaps 
ach  one  thought  that  Nature  should  have  taken  an  espe- 
ial  care  of  one  of  her  most  curious  rareties,  and  felt 
mipted  to  atone  for  one  of  the  oversights  of  fate.  Their 
oble,  simple  bearing,  without  a  trace  of  either  shame 
r  bravado,  impressed  the  women  not  a  little.  All 
Dur  of  the  gentlemen  and  Gothard  appeared  in  the  cos¬ 
ame  in  which  they  were  arrested,  but  Michu’s  clothes 
eing  part  of  the  evidence,  he  wore  his  best  —  a  blue 
reatcoat,  a  brown  velvet  c  Robespierre ’  waistcoat,  and 

white  cravat.  The  poor  man  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
inister  looks.  A  murmur  of  horror  broke  from  the  audi- 
nce  if  he  made  any  chance  movement,  or  turned  his 
:een,  bright,  tawny  eyes  on  them.  They  were  inclined 
o  see  the  finger  of  God  in  his  appearance  in  the  dock, 
/hither  his  father-in-law  had  sent  so  many  victims.  And 
te,  with  true  magnanimity,  looked  at  his  masters  and  re¬ 
pressed  an  ironical  smile.  4  I  am  doing  you  harm,’  his 
yes  seemed  to  say.  Five  of  the  prisoners  exchanged 
ordial  greetings  with  their  counsel.  Gothard  still  acted 
he  idiot. 

After  the  counsel  for  the  defence  had  judiciously  used 
heir  right  to  challenge  some  of  the  names  on  the  jury 
the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  had  the  courage  to  sit  be- 
ween  M.  Bordin  and  M.  de  Granville  to  give  infor¬ 
mation  on  this  point),  the  panel  was  completed,  the 
ndictment  read  over,  and  the  accused  separated  for 
xamination.  Their  answers  were  remarkably  similar. 
They  had  ridden  out  in  the  forest  all  morning,  returning 
t  one  o’clock  to  breakfast  at  Cinq-Cygne.  Afterwards, 
etween  three  and  half-past  five,  they  were  again  in  the 
arest.  This  was  the  substance  of  all  their  statements ; 
he  details  varied  with  the  particular  circumstances  in 
ach  case.  The  MM.  de  Simeuse,  for  instance,  asked 
y  the  President  why  they  had  gone  out  so  early  in  the 


19°  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

morning,  separately  declared  that  since  their  return  homt 
they  had  had  thoughts  of  buying  Gondreville ;  that,  a 
Malin  came  down  on  the  previous  day,  they  meant  t( 
treat  with  him,  and  had  gone  out  with  Mademoiselle  di 
Cinq-Cygne  and  Michu  to  make  a  survey  on  which  thei 
meant  to  base  their  offer.  Meanwhile  the  MM.  d’ Haute- 
serre,  with  their  cousin  and  Gothard,  had  gone  after  a  woll 
that  some  of  the  peasants  had  seen.  If  the  Directo 
of  the  Jury,  who  found  the  hoof-marks  in  the  park  a 
Gondreville,  had  taken  as  much  pains  to  find  the  print 
left  in  the  forest,  they  could  have  shown  that  they  ha: 
been  far  away  from  the  chateau  at  the  time. 

The  examination  of  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre  confirmee 
these  statements,  which  agreed  with  their  previous  exami 
nation  by  the  magistrate.  Obliged  to  give  some  reason  fo 
their  excursion,  each  of  them  separately  hit  upon  the  ide; 
of  a  hunting  party.  Some  peasants  had  seen  a  wolf  in  th< 
forest  a  few  days  before,  and  each  of  them  took  this  as  ; 
pretext. 

Still  the  Public  Accuser  made  the  most  of  the  discre 
pancies  between  the  present  and  the  preliminary  examina 
tions,  when  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre  deposed  that  they  al 
went  hunting  together.  Now  it  seemed  that  the  d’Haute- 
serres  and  Laurence  de  Cinq-Cygne  had  gone  hunting 
while  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  had  been  surveying  the 
forest. 

M.  de  Granville  pointed  out,  that,  as  the  misdemeanoui 
was  committed  some  time  between  two  and  half-past  five 
the  accused  must  be  believed  when  they  accounted  for  the 
way  in  which  they  had  spent  the  morning. 

To  this,  the  Accuser  replied  that  it  was  to  the  prisoner’* 
interest  to  conceal  their  preparations  for  the  illegal  deten- 
tion  of  the  Senator. 

Then  the  skill  with  which  the  defence  was  conductec 
became  apparent  to  all  eyes.  Judge,  jury,  and  spectator* 
soon  saw  that  victory  would  be  hotly  disputed.  Bordir 


A  Political  Trial  19 1 

ad  M.  de  Granville  seemed  to  be  provided  for  all  contin¬ 
ences.  Innocence  is  bound  to  give  a  clear  and  plausible 
ecount  of  its  actions ;  and  therefore  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
ounsel  for  the  defence,  to  oppose  a  probable  romance  to 
ae  improbable  romance  invented  by  the  prosecution.  If 
le  prisoner’s  counsel  believes  in  his  client’s  innocence,  he 
aows  that  the  case  for  the  prosecution  is  a  myth.  The 
ublic  examination  of  the  four  nobles  gave  a  sufficient  and 
ivourable  explanation  of  the  matter.  So  far  all  went  well. 
»ut  Michu’s  examination  was  a  more  serious  affair,  and  on 
fiat  the  battle  closed.  Every  one  now  understood  why 
A.  de  Granville  had  chosen  to  defend  the  servant  rather 
han  the  masters. 

Michu  admitted  that  he  had  threatened  Marion,  but 
atly  denied  the  violence  attributed  to  his  threats.  As  to 
ping  in  wait  for  Malin,  he  said  that  he  had  simply  been 
/alking  in  the  park ;  the  Senator  and  Grevin  might  have 
een  frightened  by  the  sight  of  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  and 
aken  it  as  a  threat  when  no  threat  was  intended.  He 
•ointed  out  that  if  a  man  is  not  used  to  handling  a  gun,  he 
nay  imagine  that  the  muzzle  is  pointed  at  him,  when,  as  a 
natter  of  fact,  it  is  resting  on  the  owner’s  shoulder;  and 
ie  accounted  for  the  condition  of  his  clothes,  by  the  fact 
hat  he  had  a  fall  as  he  climbed  the  gap  on  his  way  home. 

c  It  was  too  dark  to  see  to  climb,’  he  said ;  c  I  clutched  at 
he  stones  to  hoist  myself  up  to  the  hollow  way,  and  some 
»f  them  came  tumbling  down  on  me.’ 

Questioned  as  to  the  cement  that  Gothard  was  carrying, 
ie  replied  now  as  on  all  previous  occasions,  that  it  was 
panted  to  fix  one  of  the  gate-posts  at  the  top  of  the 
lollow  way. 

The  Public  Accuser  and  the  President  both  asked  him 
tow  he  came  to  be  in  the  gap  in  the  fosse,  when  he  had 
een  mending  the  gate  at  the  other  end  of  the  way, 
specially  as  the  justice,  the  gendarmes,  and  the  rural 
•oliceman  all  declared  that  they  heard  him  come  up  the 


192  A  Gondreville  Mystery- 

lane.  Michu  replied  that  M.  d’Hauteserre  had  blamed 
him  for  not  doing  the  little  job  before,  because  the  com¬ 
mune  might  raise  difficulties  about  the  right  of  way.  So 
he  had  gone  to  the  chateau  to  say  that  the  gate-post  had 
been  mended. 

M.  d’Hauteserre,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had  put  a  gate 
across  the  hollow  lane  to  prevent  the  commune  from 
claiming  the  right  of  way ;  and  Michu,  seeing  how  impor¬ 
tant  it  was  to  account  for  the  state  of  his  clothes  and  the 
use  of  the  cement  which  he  could  not  deny,  had  invented 
this  subterfuge.  If  the  truth  often  looks  like  fiction  in  a 
court  of  law,  fiction,  on  the  other  hand,  often  looks  like 
truth.  Both  the  prosecution  and  the  defence  attached 
great  importance  to  the  statement ;  and  all  the  efforts  oi 
the  defence,  all  the  suspicions  of  the  Public  Accuser,  cen-j 
tred  about  this  capital  point. 

Gothard,  prompted  no  doubt  by  M.  de  Granville,  ad¬ 
mitted  that  Michu  told  him  to  fetch  some  bags  of  cement 
hitherto  he  had  always  begun  to  cry  as  soon  as  any  ques¬ 
tions  were  put  to  him. 

c  Why  did  not  you  or  Gothard  take  the  justice  of  thd 
peace  and  the  policeman  to  the  gate  at  once  ? 9  asked  thd 
Public  Accuser. 

c  I  never  thought  that  it  was  to  be  a  question  of  life  anq 
death  for  us.’ 

All  the  prisoners  except  Gothard  were  removed.  Wher| 
the  boy  was  left  alone  in  the  dock  the  President  advisee 
him  to  tell  the  truth,  in  his  own  interests,  reminding  him 
that  his  pretence  of  idiocy  had  broken  down.  Not  one  of  the 
jury  mistook  him  for  an  idiot.  If  he  refused  to  tell  wha 
he  knew  he  laid  himself  open  to  heavy  penalties ;  wherea: 
by  telling  the  truth,  he  would  probably  clear  himself 
Gothard  began  to  cry,  wavered,  and  said  at  length  tha 
Michu  had  told  him  to  bring  several  bags  of  cement ;  bu 
that  each  time  he  met  him  near  the  farm.  They  askec 
how  many  bags  he  had  brought  down. 


A  Political  Trial 


m 


4  Three/  he  said. 

At  this  a  dispute  began  between  Gothard  and  Michu 
to  the  number  of  the  bags.  Were  there  three,  count- 
g  the  bag  that  Gothard  was  bringing  at  the  time  of 
s  arrest,  or  three  besides  the  last  ?  The  point  was  de- 
Jed  in  Michu’s  favour.  The  jury  held  that  only  two 
gs  had  been  used,  and  it  seemed  that  they  had  made  up 
eir  minds  on  that  score  already.  Bordin  and  M.  de  Gran- 
lle  thought  it  advisable  to  give  them  a  surfeit  of  cement 
1  they  grew  so  confused  and  weary  of  it  that  they  under- 
Dod  nothing.  M.  de  Granville  in  conclusion  suggested 
at  experts  should  be  appointed  to  examine  the  condition 
'  the  posts. 

4  The  Director  of  the  Jury/  urged  the  defence,  4  was 
tisfied  to  inspect  the  place  not  so  much  to  obtain  the 
ibiassed  opinion  of  experts,  as  to  find  proofs  of  foul  play 
l  Michu’s  part.  But  in  our  opinion  he  failed  in  his  duty ; 
id  his  error  should  not  be  turned  to  our  disadvantage.’ 

The  court  accordingly  appointed  experts  to  discover 
hether  a  post  had  recently  been  set.  The  Public  Accuser, 

I  the  other  hand,  tried  to  turn  the  circumstance  to  account 
ifore  the  inquiry  was  made. 

4  So  you  chose  a  time  of  day  when  it  is  almost  dark,  to  fix 
post,  and  to  do  it  all  by  yourself?  ’  he  asked  Michu. 

4  M.  d’Hauteserre  had  given  me  a  scolding.’ 

4  But  if  you  used  cement  over  it,  you  must  have  taken 
trowel  and  a  hod.  Now,  if  you  went  off  so  promptly  to 

II  M.  d’Hauteserre  that  you  had  carried  out  his  orders,  it 
impossible  to  explain  how  Gothard  came  to  be  bringing 
)u  more  cement.  You  must  have  gone  right  past  your 
mse,  and  in  that  case  you  could  have  left  your  tools  there 
id  spoken  to  Gothard.’ 

The  argument  came  like  a  thunderbolt.  There  was  a 
eadful  silence  in  the  court. 

4  Come  now/  said  the  Public  Accuser,  4  confess ;  that 

fie  was  not  dug  for  the  post - ’ 

N 


194  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  Then  do  you  suppose  it  was  for  the  Senator  ? 9  asket 
Michu,  with  intense  irony  in  his  tones. 

M.  de  Granville  formally  called  the  Public  Accuser  t« 
order  on  this  point.  Michu  was  accused  not  of  murder 
but  of  kidnapping  and  false  imprisonment.  Nothing  coul- 
be  more  serious  than  such  a  question.  By  the  Code  o: 
Brumaire  of  the  year  IV,  the  Public  Accuser  was  forbidde: 
to  bring  up  any  new  charge  in  the  course  of  the  trial ;  h 
was  bound  to  keep  to  the  indictment,  or  the  trial  would  b 
annulled. 

The  Public  Accuser  replied  to  the  effect  that  Michu,  th 
prime  mover  in  the  affair,  had  taken  all  the  responsibilit 
on  his  own  shoulders,  to  save  his  masters ;  and  that  h 
might  very  well  have  been  obliged  to  block  up  the  entranc 
to  the  place  as  yet  unknown,  where  the  Senator  groanec 

Closely  pressed  with  questions,  worried  in  Gothard 
presence,  and  made  to  contradict  himself,  Michu  brougl 
down  his  fist  with  a  bang  on  the  ledge  of  the  dock. 

4 1  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  kidnapping  the  Senator 
he  said.  4 1  incline  to  think  that  his  enemies  have  simp! 
shut  him  up  somewhere ;  but  if  he  makes  his  appearance 
you  will  see  that  the  cement  could  not  possibly  have  com 
into  the  affair  at  all.’ 

4  Good  !  ’  said  M.  de  Granville,  addressing  the  Publi 
Accuser,  4  you  have  done  more  in  my  client’s  defenc 
than  anything  I  can  say.’ 

The  court  rose,  after  a  bold  assertion  which  took  th 
jury  by  surprise  and  told  for  the  defence.  The  bar  q 
Troyes  and  Bordin  greeted  Michu’s  young  counsel  wit 
enthusiastic  congratulations.  The  Public  Accuser  was  di- 
turbed  in  his  mind.  He  was  afraid  that  he  had  fallen  int 
some  trap ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  walked  int 
a  snare  very  skilfully  set  for  him  by  the  defence,  in  whic 
Gothard  had  just  distinguished  himself.  Wags  in  tl 
town  said  that  the  case  had  been  patched  up ;  that  t\ 
Public  Accuser  had  made  a  botch  of  the  business,  an 


A  Political  Trial 


l9$ 

e  Simeuses  had  been  whitewashed.  Anything  in  France 
fair  game  for  a  jest,  —  a  jest  rules  the  nation.  Your 
•enchman  cuts  his  joke  on  the  scaffold,  in  the  Beresina, 
the  barricades  ;  probably,  even  on  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
ere  will  be  one  or  two  that  will  make  an  epigram  here 
A  there. 

Next  day  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  were  called, 
adame  Marion,  Madame  Grevin,  Grevin  himself,  the 
nator’s  man,  and  Violette  made  depositions  as  might  be 
pected.  All  of  them  showed  more  or  less  hesitation  as 
the  four  nobles ;  all  were  quite  certain  as  to  Michu. 
eauvisage  repeated  the  words  let  fall  by  Robert  d’Haute- 
rre;  the  peasant,  who  came  for  the  calf,  deposed  to 
ving  heard  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne’s  remark  about 
irning  Gondreville.  The  blacksmiths  were  called,  and 
mfirmed  their  previously  given  evidence  as  to  the  horse- 
oes  from  the  Cinq-Cygne  stables,  which  exactly  fitted 
e  prints  left  by  the  park  gate.  Naturally,  there  was  a 
>t  battle  over  this  fact  between  M.  de  Granville  and  the 
lblic  Accuser.  The  Cinq-Cygne  blacksmith  was  summ¬ 
oned  by  the  defence,  and  it  came  out  in  the  course  of 
e  examinations,  that  precisely  similar  horseshoes  had 
:en  sold  a  few  days  previously  to  persons  unknown  in 
e  country.  The  smith  likewise  declared  that  he  shod 
enty  of  horses  in  that  fashion  besides  those  from  Cinq- 
ygne.  Finally,  Michu’s  horse  happened  to  have  been 
od  at  Troyes,  and  the  prints  could  not  be  found  among 
e  others  in  the  park. 

c  Michu’s  double  did  not  know  that,’  said  M.  de  Gran¬ 
ule,  looking  at  the  jury,  cand  the  prosecution  has  failed 
prove  that  we  used  one  of  the  horses  from  the  chateau.’ 
With  withering  emphasis  he  disposed  of  Violette’s  evi¬ 
nce  as  to  the  horses.  The  man  had  seen  them  at  a 
stance  with  their  tails  turned  toward  him.  But  in  spite 
’  incredible  efforts  made  on  Michu’s  behalf,  the  weight 
circumstantial  evidence  against  him  was  too  strong. 


196  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

The  Accuser,  the  public,  the  court,  and  the  jury,  all  felt 
alike  that  the  servant’s  guilt  once  proven,  the  masters5 
connivance  was  a  necessary  deduction.  Bordin  had  rightly 
guessed  where  the  knot  lay  when  he  appointed  M.  de  Gran¬ 
ville  to  defend  Michu ;  but  by  so  doing,  the  defence  owned 
the  weak  points  of  their  case.  Meantime,  everything  con¬ 
cerning  the  ex-bailiff  of  Gondreville,  became  a  matter  of 
palpitating  interest. 

Michu’s  demeanour  was  superb  throughout.  He  dis¬ 
played  all  the  sagacity  with  which  nature  had  gifted  him ; 
the  public  could  not  choose  but  see  that  this  was  no  ordi¬ 
nary  man,  and,  strange  to  say,  for  that  very  reason  people 
felt  the  more  convinced  that  he  was  guilty.  The  witnesses 
for  the  defence  carried  less  weight  with  the  jury  than  th( 
witnesses  for  the  prosecution ;  the  former  appeared  to  dc 
their  duty,  and  were  heard  as  a  matter  of  duty.  In  the 
first  place  neither  Marthe  nor  Monsieur  nor  Madam< 
d’Hauteserre  could  be  sworn ;  Catherine  and  the  Durietfs 
as  domestic  servants,  were  in  the  same  predicament.  M 
d’Hauteserre  said  that  he  had  in  fact  ordered  Michu  t( 
reset  a  post  that  had  been  overturned.  The  experts’  re¬ 
port,  read  at  this  juncture,  confirmed  old  M.  d’Hauteserre’! 
testimony,  but  at  the  same  time  it  told  in  favour  of  the 
Director  of  the  Jury,  for  it  was  stated  that  the  commissiof 
found  it  impossible  to  say  when  the  work  was  done;  th< 
post  might  have  been  mended  at  any  time  within  the  las 
six  weeks. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne’s  appearance  excited  th< 
keenest  interest,  but  the  sight  of  her  cousins  in  the  dock 
after  a  separation  of  twenty-three  days,  affected  her  sc 
violently  that  she  looked  guilty.  She  felt  a  dreadful  long¬ 
ing  to  be  beside  her  twin  cousins.  She  said  afterward: 
that  it  was  all  that  she  could  do  to  fight  down  a  furiou: 
desire  to  kill  the  Public  Accuser  that  she  too  might  stanc 
beside  them  —  a  criminal  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Bu 
she  told  quite  simply  how  she  had  seen  the  smoke  in  the 


A  Political  Trial  19^ 

rk,  as  they  went  back  from  Cinq-Cygne,  and  thought 
at  something  must  be  on  fire.  For  some  time  she  had 
ought  that  they  were  burning  weeds. 

‘  And  yet,’  she  said,  ‘  I  will  call  your  attention  to  some- 
ing  which  I  only  remembered  afterwards.  The  folds  of 
y  collar  and  the  loops  of  braid  on  my  habit  were  filled 
ith  ashes,  like  burnt  papers  carried  by  the  wind.’ 

‘  Was  there  a  considerable  volume  of  smoke  ?  ’  asked 
ordin. 

‘  Yes,’  replied  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne.  c  I  thought 
at  something  was  on  fire.’ 

‘This  may  change  the  whole  aspect  of  the  case,’  said 
ordin.  ‘  I  make  application  to  the  court  for  an  order  for 
ie  immediate  investigation  of  the  place  where  the  fire 
as  seen.’ 

The  President  granted  the  order.  # 

Grevin,  recalled  by  the  defence,  declared  that  he  knew 
othing  on  this  head.  But  Bordin  and  Grevin  exchanged 
ances  which  let  the  light  into  the  minds  of  either. 

‘So  that  is  where  the  gist  of  it  lies  !  ’  the  old  procureur. 
lid  to  himself. 

‘  They  are  on  the  scent !  ’  thought  the  notary. 

But  the  shrewd,  crafty  pair  knew  equally  well  that  the 
ivestigation  was  useless.  Bordin  knew  that  Grevin 
'ould  be  as  close  as  a  wall,  and  Grevin  congratulated  him- 
,;lf  on  having  cleared  away  all  traces  of  the  fire.  The 
xperts  and  Pigoult  were  commissioned  to  search  the  park 
)  as  to  settle  the  point,  a  side  issue  as  it  seemed,  and  a* 
uerile  matter;  albeit,  it  is  of  capital  importance  in  the 
;habilitation  which  history  owes  to  the  accused.  They 
eclared  that  they  found  no  traces  of  a  fire  anywhere, 
’wo  labourers,  produced  by  Bordin,  deposed  that  by  the 
eeper’s  orders  they  had  dug  over  a  piece  of  burnt  turf; 
vhat  had  been  burned  there  they  could  not  say.  The 
eeper,  recalled  by  the  defence,  said  that  as  he  went  past 
he  chateau  on  his  way  to  see  the  masquerade  at  Arcis,  the 


198  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

Senator  told  him  to  dig  over  a  bit  of  meadow  which  he 
(Malin)  had  noticed  that  morning  as  he  walked  out. 
c  Had  they  burnt  weeds  or  papers  there  ?  ’ 
c  I  saw  nothing  to  lead  me  to  suppose  that  papers  hac 
been  burnt/  said  the  keeper. 

The  depositions  of  Mademoiselle  Goujet  and  the  cure 
of  Cinq-Cygne  made  a  good  impression.  As  they  walkec 
toward  the  forest  after  vespers,  they  had  seen  the  part) 
with  Michu  riding  out  from  the  chateau.  The  abbe’s 
position  and  principles  lent  weight  to  his  words. 

The  Public  Accuser’s  address  to  the  jury  was  the  ordi¬ 
nary  speech  made  on  such  occasions.  He  felt  secure  of 
a  condemnation.  The  accused  were  incorrigible  enemie: 
of  France,  French  institutions,  and  French  laws.  The) 
thirsted  for  disorder.  They  had  been  mixed  up  in  plot* 
against  the  Emperor’s  life ;  they  had  been  in  the  Army  of 
Conde;  and  yet  that  magnanimous  sovereign  had  struct 
their  names  out  of  the  list  of  emigres .  And  this  was  hov 
they  repaid  his  clemency! — Out  came  all  the  oratorical 
flourishes  used  afterwards  under  the  Bourbons  against  th<i 
Bonapartists,  and  again,  at  a  later  day,  under  the  Orlean; 
branch,  against  Republicans  and  Legitimists  alike.  Com¬ 
monplaces,  which  might  have  had  some  meaning  under  % 
long-established  government,  must  seem  comic,  to  say  tht 
least,  when  history  finds  them  in  the  mouth  of  the  public 
prosecutor  through  every  political  change.  The  old  saying 
that  arose  out  of  more  ancient  troubles  might  be  appliec 
here  — c  The  sign  is  changed,  but  the  wine  is  the  same  as 
ever !  ’  The  Public  Accuser  (in  this  instance  one  of  th« 
most  distinguished  lawyers  in  the  service  of  the  Imperia 
Government)  maintained  that  the  misdemeanour  was  a  sigi 
of  the  times,  an  indication  of  a  deliberate  intention  on  tin 
part  of  the  returned  emigre  s  to  protest  against  the  occupa 
tion  of  their  forfeited  estates.  He  made  his  audience  shudde 
duly  over  the  Senator’s  present  position.  Then,  his  inge¬ 
nuity  stimulated  by  the  certain  prospect  of  a  reward  fo 


A  Political  Trial  <  199 

>  zeal,  he  piled  up  proofs,  semi-proofs,  and  probabilities 
one  accumulation,  and  sat  quietly  awaiting  his  adversaries 
e. 

This  was  the  first  and  last  criminal  case  in  which  M.  de 
ranville  appeared  for  the  defence ;  but  it  made  his  repu- 
tion.  In  the  first  place,  he  opened  his  pleading  with 
at  irresistible  eloquence  which  we  of  to-day  admire  so 
uch  in  M.  Berryer.  What  was  more,  he  was  convinced 
at  his  clients  were  not  guilty,  and  genuine  conviction 
rries  a  force  with  it  that  nothing  else  can  give. 

The  principal  points  of  a  defence,  which  the  newspapers 
*  the  day  reported  in  full,  were  as  follows :  — 

He  began  by  putting  Michu’s  life  in  its  true  light.  It 
as  a  noble  story  to  tell ;  the  vibrations  of  the  greatest  and 
ghest  feeling  in  it  roused  the  sympathies  of  many.  Michu 
t  listening  to  his  rehabilitation  by  that  eloquent  voice,  and 
times  the  tears  overflowed  the  tawny  eyes  and  trickled 
/er  his  stern  face.  At  that  moment  he  looked  as  he  really 
as,  —  simple  and  crafty  as  a  child,  and  yet  a  man  whose 
hole  life  had  been  ruled  by  one  thought.  Suddenly  he 
ad  become  comprehensible,  and  his  tears  completed  the 
relation.  The  effect  produced  upon  the  jury  was  great, 
^he  adroit  counsel  for  the  defence  seized  his  opportunity 
)  discuss  the  indictment. 

c  Where  is  the  substantial  proof  of  the  charge  ?  Where 
the  Senator  ? 9  he  asked.  c  You  accuse  us  of  imprisoning 
im  and  even  of  walling  him  up  with  stones  and  cement, 
lut  in  that  case  we  alone  know  where  he  is ;  and  as  you 
ave  kept  us  in  prison  for  twenty-three  days  he  must  be 
:arved  to  death  by  this  time.  We  are  murderers,  and  you 
ave  not  charged  us  with  murder.  .  .  .  But,  if  he  is  alive, 
re  have  accomplices ;  and  if  we  had  accomplices  and  the 
enator  is  still  alive,  could  we  not  produce  him  ?  When 
le  intentions  that  you  attribute  to  us  have  miscarried,  why 
bould  we  aggravate  our  position,  since  there  is  nothing  to 
e  gained  by  it  ?  Repentance  might  possibly  buy  pardon 


200  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

now  that  we  have  failed ;  and  yet  we  are  supposed  to  per¬ 
sist  in  detaining  a  man  from  whom  we  can  get  nothing! 
Is  not  this  absurd  ?  You  may  take  away  your  cement;  it 
fails  in  its  effect/  he  continued,  addressing  the  Accuser. 
4  We  are  either  stupid  criminals  (which  you  do  not  believe) 
or  innocent  men,  victims  of  circumstances  inexplicable  for 
us  as  for  you.  You  had  far  better  have  looked  for  that 
mass  of  papers  burnt  in  the  Senator’s  grounds.  That  fact 
shows  that  there  is  some  reason  more  pressing  than  your 
hypothetical  one,  some  other  way  of  accounting  for  his 
illegal  detention - ’ 

Into  these  suppositions  M.  de  Granville  entered  with 
wonderful  skill.  He  dwelt  upon  the  high  character  of  the 
witnesses  for  the  defence,  witnesses  whose  lively  religious 
faith  argued  a  belief  in  the  future  and  eternal  punishment. 
On  this  head  he  was  sublime ;  he  saw  how  to  make  a  pro¬ 
found  impression. 

4  What !  ’  said  he,  c  the  criminals  are  quietly  dining  after 
their  cousin  brings  the  news  that  the  Senator  has  been  kid¬ 
napped.  The  officer  sent  to  arrest  them  suggests  that  they 
should  give  up  the  Senator  and  the  affair  shall  go  no  fur¬ 
ther,  and  they  refuse;  they  do  not  even  know  what  the 
charge  is.’ 

With  that  M.  de  Granville  hinted  at  a  mystery;  time 
would  provide  a  clue  to  it,  and  the  injustice  of  the  accusa-) 
tion  would  come  to  light.  Once  upon  this  ground  he  had 
the  audacity  and  ingenuity  to  put  himself  in  the  placei 
of  one  of  the  jury;  he  rehearsed  his  deliberations  with  his 
colleagues ;  he  described  his  distress  of  mind,  when  it  was 
discovered  that  there  had  been  a  mistake,  and  that  he  had 
been  the  means  of  bringing  a  heavy  sentence  upon  inno¬ 
cent  men ;  he  painted  his  remorse  so  vividly  and  recapitu¬ 
lated  all  his  doubts  so  forcibly  that  he  left  the  jury  in 
horrible  anxiety. 

Juries  in  those  days  were  not  hardened  to  this  kind  of 
appeal;  it  possessed  the  charm  of  novelty  and  M.  de  Gran- 


201 


A  Political  Trial 

ille’s  auditors  were  visibly  shaken  by  it.  To  M.  de  Gran¬ 
ule’s  fervid  eloquence  succeeded  the  wily  and  specious 
tordin.  He  multiplied  considerations,  he  brought  for¬ 
ward  all  the  obscure  points,  and  made  them  inexplicable, 
le  set  himself  to  make  an  impression  upon  the  mind  and 
ldgment,  as  M.  de  Granville  had  appealed  to  the  imagina- 
•on  and  the  heart.  He  succeeded,  in  fact,  in  entangling 
he  jury  with  such  earnest  conviction  that  the  Public  Ac- 
user  saw  his  scaffold  falling  to  pieces.  This  was  so  evi- 
ent  that  the  counsel  representing  the  MM.  d’Hauteserre 
nd  Gothard,  finding  there  was  no  attempt  to  press  the 
harge  against  his  clients,  left  his  case  to  the  discretion  of 
he  jury. 

The  Accuser  made  application  for  an  adjournment ;  he 
vould  give  his  rejoinder  on  the  morrow.  Bordin,  reading 
cquittal  in  the  eyes  of  the  jury,  if  they  considered  their 
erdict  while  the  effect  of  the  pleading  was  fresh,  objected, 
m  the  score  of  law  and  fact,  to  another  night  of  suspense 
or  his  innocent  clients.  In  vain.  The  judges  held  a 
onsultation. 

c  It  seems  to  me,’  said  the  President,  c  that  the  interests 
>f  the  public  equal  the  interests  of  the  accused.  The 
ourt  could  not  refuse  such  an  application  if  made  by 
he  defence,  without  falling  short  of  all  ideas  of  justice ; 
o  it  must  be  granted  to  the  prosecution.5 

4  44  A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile,55  5  said  Bordin,  looking 
t  his  clients.  ‘Acquitted  to-day,  you  may  be  brought 
n  guilty  to-morrow.5 

4  In  any  case,  we  can  only  admire  you,5  said  the  elder 
iimeuse. 

Tears  stood  in  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne5s  eyes, 
he  had  not  looked  for  such  a  success  after  the  doubts 
f  her  counsel.  People  came  to  congratulate  her,  and 
very  one  made  sure  that  her  cousins  would  be  acquitted. 

But  the  whole  scene  was  to  be  changed  by  a  sudden, 
tartling  event,  —  the  most  unexpected  and  ominous  occur- 


202  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

rence  that  ever  altered  the  entire  aspect  of  a  criminal 
case. 

Senator  Malin  was  found  on  the  high  road  to  Troyes, 
at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning  on  the  day  aftei  M.  de 
Granville’s  pleading !  Persons  unknown  had  set  him  at 
liberty  while  he  slept;  and  he  was  now  on  his  way  to 
Troyes,  totally  unaware  that  Europe  was  ringing  with 
his  name,  or  that  a  trial  was  proceeding,  and  merely  glad 
to  breathe  fresh  air  again.  If  other  people  were  amazed 
to  see  the  man  upon  whom  the  whole  drama  turned,  he 
was  at  least  as  much  astounded  by  the  news  that  they 
gave  him.  A  farmer  lent  his  cart,  and  Malin  soon  reached 
the  Prefect’s  house  at  Troyes.  The  Prefect  sent  at  once 
for  the  Director  of  the  Jury,  the  commissary,  and  the  Pub¬ 
lic  Accuser;  and  the  Senator  told  his  story.  A  warrant 
was  made  out  for  Marthe’s  arrest,  and  she  was  appre¬ 
hended  while  still  in  bed  at  the  Durieu’s.  Mademoiselle 
de  Cinq-Cygne,  at  liberty  on  bail,  was  likewise  snatched 
from  one  of  her  few  brief  moments  of  slumber  during  the 
long  agony  of  the  trial,  and  detained  at  the  prefecture  to 
be  examined.  Orders  came  to  the  prison;  the  accused 
were  not  to  be  permitted  to  communicate  with  any  one, 
—  not  even  with  their  counsel.  At  ten  o’clock,  the  as¬ 
sembled  crowd  was  informed  that  the  court  would  not 
sit  till  one  that  afternoon. 

This  change,  with  the  news  of  the  Senator’s  deliver¬ 
ance,  the  arrests  of  Marthe  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq- 
Cygne,  and  the  isolation  of  the  prisoners,  struck  dread 
into  the  inmost  souls  of  the  inmates  of  the  Hotel  de 
Chargeboeuf.  It  may  be  easily  imagined,  too,  how  the 
excitement  spread  among  the  reporters,  and  the  people 
who  came  out  of  curiosity,  till  it  travelled  over  the  whole 
town,  and  even  reached  the  working  population.  About 
ten  o’clock,  the  Abbe  Goujet  came  to  see  Monsieur  and 
Madame  d’Hauteserre,  and  to  speak  with  the  counsel; 
and  they  all  breakfasted  together,  if  people  can  be  said 


A  Political  Trial  203 

o  breakfast  in  such  circumstances.  Afterwards  the  cure 
30k  M.  de  Granville  and  Bordin  aside,  told  them  what 
/farthe  had  said  in  confidence,  and  produced  the  scrap 
f  the  letter.  The  lawyers  exchanged  glances. 

c  There  is  no  more  to  be  said !  It  is  all  over  with  us,  it 
eems.  Let  us  at  least  put  a  good  face  upon  it,’  said  Bordin. 

The  Director  of  the  Jury  and  the  Public  Accuser  combined 
/ere  too  much  for  Marthe.  Proof  against  her,  moreover, 
/as  abundant.  Lechesneau  had  sent  to  search  the  cell, 
nd  the  bottom  crust  of  Marthe’s  last  loaf  had  been  found 
here,  with  several  empty  bottles  and  other  things.  During 
he  long  hours  of  captivity  Malin  had  made  conjecture 
-»n  conjecture,  and  sought  every  least  sign  of  motive  on 
he  part  of  his  enemies.  Naturally  he  communicated 
verything  to  the  magistrate.  Michu’s  farm-house  had 
inly  recently  been  built,  and  as  the  oven  was  new  the 
joints  of  the  bricks  in  the  floor  had  left  a  sort  of  pattern 
>n  the  crust  of  the  loaf.  The  bottles,  besides,  were  sealed 
vith  green  wax,  similar,  in  all  probability,  to  the  wax  on 
he  bottles  in  Michu’s  cellar.  These  shrewd  remarks  pro- 
luced  the  expected  results  ;  the  examining  magistrate  made 
he  identification  in  Marthe’s  presence.  Lechesneau,  the 
rfiiblic  Accuser,  and  the  commissary  impressed  her  with  the 
dea  that  nothing  now  save  full  confession  could  save  her 
lusband’s  life.  Their  seeming  good-nature  at  a  time  when 
>roof  against  her  was  so  overwhelming  drew  the  admission 
hat  no  one  knew  of  the  hiding-place  save  Michu,  the 
MM.  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre,  and  that  she  herself 
lad  carried  provisions  to  the  Senator  three  times  during  the 
light.  Laurence  was  obliged  to  own  that  Michu  had  dis¬ 
covered  the  hole  and  showed  it  to  her,  as  a  refuge  for  the 
lobles  from  the  police. 

As  soon  as  the  precognitions  were  made,  intimation  was 
>ent  to  the  jury  and  counsel.  At  three  o’clock  the  Presi¬ 
dent  began  by  announcing  that  there  were  new  elements  in 
:he  case.  Michu  was  confronted  with  three  wine-bottles, 


204  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

and  asked  if  he  recognised  his  property ;  the  prosecution  at 
the  same  time  pointing  out  that  the  wax  on  the  empty 
bottles  was  precisely  similar  to  that  used  to  seal  a  full  bottle 
of  wine  taken  from  the  farm-house  cellar  by  the  magistrate 
in  Marthe’s  presence.  Michu  declined  to  acknowledge  them 
as  his,  but  the  fresh  piece  of  circumstantial  evidence  told 
with  the  jury  when  the  President  informed  them  that  the 
empty  bottles  had  been  found  in  the  place  where  the  Senator 
was  confined.  Each  of  the  accused  was  examined  separately 
as  to  the  position  of  the  hole  in  the  ruins  of  the  monastery, 
till,  after  all  the  witnesses  had  been  called  on  either  side,  it 
was  established  that  Michu  had  discovered  the  place,  and 
that  no  one  knew  of  it  save  Laurence  and  the  four  nobles. 
Judge,  then,  of  the  effect  produced  upon  the  jury  when  the 
Public  Accuser  announced  that  this  very  hiding-place  had 
served  as  the  Senator’s  prison. 

Marthe  was  called  as  a  witness.  The  keenest  anxiety 
was  felt  by  the  accused  and  the  audience  when  she  appeared ; 
and  M.  de  Granville  objected  that  a  wife’s  testimony  could 
not  be  taken  against  her  husband.  But  the  Public  Accuser 
pointed  out  that  Marthe,  on  her  own  confession,  was  an 
accessory  after  the  fact,  and  that  therefore  she  was  neither 
sworn  nor  called  as  a  witness;  she  was  to  be  examined 
simply  in  the  interest  of  truth. 

‘  Besides,’  added  the  President,  ‘  we  have  only  to  read  the 
report  of  her  examination  by  the  direction  of  the  jury.’ 
And  the  preliminary  report  drawn  up  that  morning  was 
accordingly  read  aloud  by  the  clerk  of  assize. 

‘  Do  you  confirm  these  admissions  ?  ’  asked  the  President. 

Michu  looked  full  at  his  wife,  and  she,  understanding 
her  mistake,  fainted  away.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say, 
that  this  news  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  accused  and 
their  counsel. 

lI  never  wrote  a  line  to  my  wife  from  prison,’  as¬ 
serted  Michu,  ‘  and  I  do  not  know  a  single  one  of  the 
turnkeys.’ 


A  Political  Trial  205 

Bordin  handed  him  the  scrap  of  the  letter;  Michu  had 
nly  to  glance  at  it. 

c  Some  one  has  imitated  my  handwriting/  he  exclaimed. 
c  That  is  all  that  is  left  to  you  to  say/  said  the  Public 
iccuser. 

The  Senator  was  now  brought  in  with  the  due  formali- 
es.  His  appearance  brought  about  a  theatrical  change  of 
:ene.  At  the  President’s  bidding,  Malin,  or  the  Comte 
e  Gondreville,  as  the  judges  called  him,  pitiless  to  the 
revious  owners  of  his  splendid  home,  looked  long  and 
i  arnestly  at  the  accused.  He  stated  that  his  captors  were 

(ressed  exactly  like  the  four  gentlemen ;  but  added  that  he 
ras  so  much  confused  at  the  time  that  he  could  not  posi- 
1  vely  state  that  the  accused  were  guilty. 

c  What  is  more/  said  he,  c  I  am  convinced  in  my  own 
lind  that  these  gentlemen  took  no  part  in  the  matter, 
"he  hands  that  bandaged  my  eyes  were  rough  and  coarse,, 
md  so/  he  continued,  glancing  at  Michu,  c  I  should  be 
lore  willing  to  believe  that  my  sometime  bailiff  undertook 
lat  office;  still,  I  beg  the  jury  to  weigh  my  deposition 
arefully.  My  suspicions  are  of  the  very  slightest ;  I  do 
ot  feel  at  all  sure.  And  for  this  reason,  the  two  men 
rho  seized  and  rode  off  with  me,  put  me  behind  the  man 
rho  bandaged  my  eyes,  a  red-haired  man  like  Michu. 
uid  now,  odd  as  my  observation  may  be,  I  am  bound  to 
lake  it,  for  it  tells  in  favour  of  the  accused,  and  I  beg  him 
ot  to  be  offended  by  it.  I  was  tied  closely  to  the  man’s 
ack,  and,  quickly  as  we  rode,  I  noticed  the  odour  of  my 
aptor,  and  it  was  not  that  peculiar  to  Michu.  As  for  the 
roman  who  brought  me  provisions  from  time  to  time,  I 
m  certain  that  she  was  Marthe,  Michu’s  wife.  I  knew 
er  the  first  time  I  saw  her,  by  the  ring  that  Mademoiselle 
e  Cinq-Cygne  gave  her ;  she  had  forgotten  to  take  it  off. 
"he  court  and  the  jury  will  see  the  contradictions  in  these 
lets ;  I  cannot  explain  them  at  all  as  yet.’ 

Malin’s  deposition  was  received  with  unanimous  ap- 


206  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

proval  and  a  murmur  of  applause.  Bordin  asked  leave  to 
cross-examine  so  invaluable  a  witness. 

c  Has  M.  le  Senateur  reason  to  suppose  that  his  deten¬ 
tion  might  be  attributed  to  other  causes  than  the  supposed 
interests  of  the  accused  ? ’ 

<■  I  am  certain  of  it/  said  the  Senator,  c  but  what  the 
motive  can  have  been  I  do  not  know ;  for  I  can  declare 
that  during  my  twenty  days  of  imprisonment  I  have  not 
seen  any  one.5 

c  Then  do  you  think  that  at  the  chateau  de  Gondreville, 
there  could  be  any  information,  titles,  deeds,  or  papers  of 
any  importance  to  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  ?  ’ 

c  I  do  not  think  so/  said  Malin.  c  And  even  if  it  were 
so,  I  believe  the  gentlemen  incapable  of  taking  them  by 
violence.  They  had  only  to  ask  me  for  them.’ 

cDid  not  M.  le  Senateur  order  papers  to  be  burnt  in  the 
park  ?  ’  M.  de  Granville  asked  abruptly. 

Malin  looked  across  at  Grevin.  It  was  a  sudden,  keen 
glance  that  did  not  escape  Bordin.  Then  he  denied  that 
he  had  burnt  any  papers. 

When  the  Public  Accuser  asked  about  the  Senator’s 
previous  narrow  escape  in  the  park,  and  whether  he  (thei 
Senator)  had  not  been  mistaken  as  to  the  position  of 
Michu’s  rifle,  Malin  replied  that  Michu  was  on  the  watch 
in  a  tree.  This  caused  a  great  sensation,  for  it  confirmed 
Grevin’s  testimony.  The  Simeuses  and  d’Hauteserres  sat,j 
unmoved  and  impassive  while  their  enemy  overwhelmed! 
them  with  his  generosity ;  to  Laurence  it  was  agony  sal 
intolerable  that  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  again  and 
again  caught  her  arms  to  hold  her  back.  The  Comte  de 
Gondreville  withdrew  with  a  bow  to  the  accused.  It  was 
not  returned,  —  a  little  thing  that  made  the  jury  indignant. 

‘They  are  lost!’  Bordin  whispered  in  the  Marquis’s 
ear. 

c  Alas  !  lost  through  pride,  now,  as  always/  returned  the 
Marquis. 


A  Political  Trial 


207 

c  Our  task,  gentlemen,  has  grown  too  easy,’  said  the 
ublic  Accuser,  rising  to  address  the  jury. 

He  accounted  for  the  bags  of  cement.  They  had  been 
sed  to  make  the  socket  for  the  bolt  that  fastened  the  door 
f  the  cell  in  the  manner  described  in  the  precognition  made 
y  Pigoult  that  morning.  He  showed,  without  difficulty, 
lat  no  one,  save  the  accused,  knew  of  the  existence  of  the 
ole.  He  brought  up  all  the  fictions  of  the  defence,  and 
ulverised  the  arguments  with  the  new  proofs  obtained  in 
lis  miraculous  manner.  In  1806,  it  was  too  soon  after 
793  and  the  time  of  the  c  Supreme  Being,’  to  talk  of  the 
ivine  justice ;  he  spared  the  jury  any  allusion  to  the  inter- 
irence  of  Heaven.  Finally,  he  added  that  the  authorities 
/ould  keep  watch  for  the  persons  unknown  who  had  set 
le  Senator  at  liberty,  and  sat  down  to  await  the  verdict 
nth  confidence. 

The  jury,  to  a  man,  were  fully  persuaded  that  there  was 
mystery,  but  that  mystery  in  their  opinion  had  been  made 
y  the  accused;  the  prisoners  would  not  speak  out  because 
rivate  interests  of  the  highest  importance  were  involved. 

To  M.  de  Granville  it  was  evident  that  there  were 
lachinations  of  some  kind.  He  seemed,  when  he  rose,  to 
e  overwhelmed,  and  this  was  in  fact  the  truth,  but  it  was 
ot  so  much  the  new  evidence  that  staggered  him,  as  the 
lanifest  conviction  of  the  jury.  His  pleading,  perhaps, 
ven  surpassed  yesterday’s  effort,  for  the  second  address 
'as  certainly  a  piece  of  closer  and  more  logical  reasoning 
lan  the  first.  But  the  indifference  of  the  jury  damped 
im  ;  he  was  wasting  words,  and  he  knew  it.  It  was  a 
ainful  and  numbing  position.  He  pointed  out  that  the 
enator’s  release,  as  if  by  magic,  and  very  certainly  without 
le  aid  of  Marthe  or  any  of  the  accused,  confirmed  his  pre- 
ious  arguments.  Yesterday,  surely,  the  accused  might 
ave  expected  an  acquittal ;  and,  if,  as  the  prosecution 
apposed,  they  were  able  to  detain  or  to  release  the  Sena- 
)r,  they  would  not  have  chosen  to  set  him  free  till  the 


2o8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

verdict  was  returned.  He  tried  to  show  that  enemies  con¬ 
cealed  in  obscurity  were  the  only  possible  authors  of  the 
outrage. 

Strange  to  say,  while  M.  de  Granville’s  words  troubled 
the  professional  consciences  of  the  judges  and  the  Public 
Accuser,  the  jury  listened  as  a  matter  of  form;  and  the 
public,  usually  so  ready  to  believe  in  the  innocence  of 
the  prisoner,  was  convinced  that  the  accused  was  guilty. 
There  is  an  atmosphere  of  ideas.  In  a  court  of  law  the 
judges  and  jury  feel  the  influence  of  the  ideas  of  the  crowd, 
and  vice  versa.  The  state  of  other  people’s  minds  can  be 
known  or  felt,  and  M.  de  Granville  in  his  peroration  rose 
to  a  sort  of  feverish  exaltation  due  to  his  conviction  that 
his  clients  were  guiltless. 

c  In  the  name  of  the  accused,’  he  cried,  4 1  pardon  you  in 
advance  for  a  fatal  mistake  that  nothing  can  explain.  We 
are  playthings  in  the  hands  of  some  unknown  machiavellian 
power.  Marthe  Michu  is  the  victim  of  a  detestably 
fraud,  as  people  will  recognise  when  the  misfortune  is 
irreparable.’ 

Bordin,  with  the  Senator’s  deposition  as  a  weapon,  askec 
for  the  acquittal  of  the  four  nobles. 

The  President  summed  up  the  more  fairly  because  the 
jury  had  evidently  made  up  their  minds.  He  even,  on  the 
strength  of  the  Senator’s  deposition,  leaned  somewhat  tc 
the  side  of  the  accused ;  a  piece  of  clemency  which  coulc 
not  injure  the  case  for  the  prosecution.  In  accordanct 
with  the  verdicts  declared  by  the  foreman  of  the  jury  a 
eleven  o’clock  that  night,  Michu  was  sentenced  to  death 
the  MM.  Simeuse  to  twenty-four,  and  the  two  d’ Haute 
serres  to  ten  years  penal  servitude.  Gothard  was  acquitted 
The  whole  court  tried  to  see  how  the  five  prisoners  wouh 
bear  themselves  at  the  supreme  moment  when  they  cam 
in  as  free  men  to  hear  their  verdict  and  sentence.  Th 
four  nobles  looked  long  at  Laurence ;  she  flung  them  bad 
a  martyr’s  fiery  glance  from  tearless  eyes. 


A  Political  Trial  209 

cIf  we  had  been  acquitted  she  would  have  cried/  the 
rounger  Simeuse  said  to  his  brother. 

Never  did  accused  confront  an  unjust  sentence  with 
[uieter  brows  nor  more  dignified  bearing  than  these  five 
rictims  of  a  villainous  plot. 

c  Our  counsel  has  pardoned  you/  said  the  Marquis  de 

>imeuse,  addressing  the  court.  p 

* 

Madame  d’Hauteserre  fell  ill,  and  kept  her  bed;  for 
hree  months  she  could  not  leave  the  Hotel  de  Chargeboeuf. 
vl.  d’Hauteserre  went  peaceably  back  to  Cinq-Cygne;  but 
le  was  old,  he  had  none  of  the  distractions  of  youth  to 
>revent  the  sorrow  of  age  from  eating  his  heart  away, 
iis  frequent  fits  of  absence  of  mind  told  the  cure  that  the 
»oor  father  was  always  on  the  morrow  of  that  fatal  arrest. 
There  was  no  need  to  try  Michu’s  beautiful  wife.  Marthe 
lied  in  prison  three  weeks  after  her  husband  was  sentenced 
o  death.  Her  son  she  recommended  to  Laurence,  in 
yhose  arms  she  passed  away. 

As  soon  as  the  decision  was  known,  the  Gondreville 
Mystery  passed  out  of  people’s  minds;  amid  political 
vents  of  the  highest  importance  it  was  soon  forgotten, 
ociety,  like  the  sea,  finds  its  level,  and  falls  back  into  its 
vay  again  after  an  upheaval.  All  trace  of  a  disaster  is 
oon  effaced  by  the  fluctuation  of  moving  interests. 

Laurence  would  have  given  way  in  those  days  if  it  had 
iot  been  for  her  firmness  of  character,  and  her  conviction 
hat  her  cousins  were  innocent.  She  surprised  M.  de 
jranville  and  Bordin  by  the  apparent  calmness  with  which 
oble  natures  face  the  worst.  She  nursed  Madame 
’Hauteserre,  sitting  up  with  her  at  night,  and  every  day 
he  spent  two  hours  in  the  jail.  She  would  marry  one  of 
er  cousins,  she  said,  when  they  went  to  the  convicts’  prison. 

‘The  convicts’  prison  !  ’  repeated  Bordin.  c  Why,  Made- 
loiselle,  there  is  but  one  thing  to  think  of  now;  we  must 
etition  the  Emperor  to  pardon  them.’ 

o 


aio  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  Pardon  ?  and  from  a  Bonaparte  ? 5  Laurence  cried  out 
in  horror. 

The  worthy  old  procureur' s  spectacles  took  a  leap  frorr 
his  nose,  but  he  caught  them,  and  took  a  look  at  this  gin 
that  had  grown  to  be  a  woman  all  at  once.  Her  charactei 
was  fully  revealed  to  him.  He  turned  and  caught  the 
Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf  by  the  arm. 

c  My  lord  Marquis,  let  us  hurry  to  Paris,’  he  said,  c  anc 
save  them  without  her  !  ’ 

The  petitions  sent  up  by  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  anc 
d’Hauteserre  and  by  Michu  stood  first  on  the  list  for  th< 
new  Court  of  Cassation.  Happily  the  decision  was  de¬ 
layed  by  the  inaugural  ceremonies. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  month  of  September,  after  thre( 
hearings  of  the  pleadings,  and  of  the  attorney-genera 
Merlin,  who  appeared  in  person,  the  appeal  was  dismissed 
Meanwhile,  the  Imperial  Court  of  Paris  was  instituted 
M.  de  Granville  received  the  appointment  of  deputy  attor- 
ney-general ;  and  as  the  department  of  the  Aube  cam* 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  that  court,  he  found  it  impossibl 
in  his  official  position  to  take  the  necessary  steps  for  th 
condemned  prisoners.  But  he  wearied  out  his  patrol 
Cambaceres.  Bordin  and  M.  de  Chargeboeuf  went  to  hi 
house  in  the  Marais  on  the  day  after  the  decision  of  th 
Court  of  Cassation,  and  found  him  in  the  honeymoon,  fo 
he  had  married  in  the  meantime.  But  in  spite  of  thes 
various  changes,  M.  de  Chargeboeuf  saw  clearly,  from  th 
young  barrister’s  distress,  that  he  was  true  to  his  clients 
There  are  lawyers,  and  these  are  the  artists  of  their  pro 
fession,  who  take  a  case  for  a  mistress.  But  this  does  nc 
often  happen  ;  the  reader  had  better  not  count  upon  it. 

So  soon  as  M.  de  Granville’s  ex-clients  wer 
alone  with  him  in  his  private  room,  he  turned  to  th 
Marquis. 

4 1  did  not  expect  your  visit,’  he  said ;  c  I  have  used  u 
all  my  credit  already.  Do  not  try  to  save  Michu;  yo 


A  Political  Trial  21 1 

ill  only  obtain  pardon  for  the  MM.  de  Simeuse.  Some- 
idy  must  suffer.’ 

c  Good  Lord  !  ’  cried  Bordin,  holding  up  the  three  ap¬ 
pals  to  mercy,  c  how  am  I  to  take  it  upon  myself  to 
ithhold  your  old  client’s  demand  ?  If  I  throw  this  paper 
i  the  fire,  I  might  as  well  cut  off  his  head.’ 

He  held  out  Michu’s  signature.  M.  de  Granville  took 
up  and  looked  at  it. 

‘We  cannot  withdraw  it,’  he  said,  1  but  mind  this:  if 
du  ask  pardon  for  all,  you  will  get  nothing.’ 
c  Have  we  time  to  consult  Michu  ?  ’  asked  Bordin. 
cYes.  The  order  for  an  execution  is  issued  by  the 
:torney-general’s  staff;  we  can  give  you  a  few  days’ 
day.  Men  are  murdered,’  he  added,  with  a  touch  of 
)mething  like  bitterness,  c  but  there  are  certain  forms  to 
e  observed,  especially  at  Paris.’ 

M.  de  Chargeboeuf  had  already  been  to  the  Chief 
usticiary,  and  recollections  of  what  he  had  said  gave 
reat  weight  to  M.  de  Granville’s  bitter  words. 

c  Michu  is  not  guilty,’  continued  M.  de  Granville ; 
I  know  it,  and  I  say  so ;  but  what  can  one  man  do  by 
imself  with  every  one  against  him  ?  And  recollect  that 
am  bound  now  to  be  silent.  It  is  my  duty  to  raise  the 
:affold  on  which  my  client’s  head  is  to  fall.’ 

M.  de  Chargeboeuf  knew  enough  of  Laurence  to  feel 
ire  that  she  would  not  consent  to  save  her  cousins 
t  Michu’s  expense.  So  the  Marquis  tried  one  last  ex- 
edient.  He  had  asked  for  an  audience  of  the  Minister 
f  Foreign  Relations,  to  discover  whether  diplomacy  in 
igh  quarters  might  not  afford  a  way  of  escape.  He  went 
rith  Bordin,  who  knew  the  Minister  and  had  been  of 
;rvice  to  him  several  times.  They  found  Talleyrand 
Dsorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  fire,  his  feet  stretched 
ut,  before  him,  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  his  elbow  on 
le  table.  A  newspaper  lay  on  the  floor.  He  had  just 
een  reading  the  decision  of  the  Court  of  Cassation. 


212  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  Please  sit  down,  M.  le  Marquis,’  said  the  Minister. 
c  And  you,  Bordin  ’  (indicating  a  place  opposite  him  at  the 
table),  c  write - ’ 

‘  Sire,  —  Four  innocent  gentlemen,  declared  guilty  by 
the  jury,  have  just  been  informed  that  their  appeal  is 
dismissed  by  your  Majesty’s  Court  of  Cassation. 

c  Your  Imperial  Majesty  can  only  extend  mercy  to 
them.  The  four  gentlemen  only  ask  this  favour  of  your 
august  clemency  that  they  may  find  an  occasion  of  turning 
their  deaths  to  account  in  your  Majesty’s  service,  by 
fighting  under  your  eyes,  and  declare  themselves  to  be 
respectfully  your  Imperial  and  Royal  Majesty’s  ’  etc.  .  .  . 

‘  Only  princes  can  confer  such  obligations  as  this,’  said 
the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf,  taking  the  precious  draft  of 
the  memorial  from  Bordin’s  hands,  and  vowing  inwardly 
to  obtain  august  support  for  it. 

<■  The  lives  of  your  relatives  hang  on  the  fortune  of 
war,  M.  le  Marquis,’  said  the  Minister.  ‘Try  to  time 
your  interview  with  the  Emperor  after  a  victory,  and 
they  will  be  saved.’ 

Talleyrand  took  up  the  pen  and  wrote  a  confidential 
letter  to  the  Emperor,  and  a  dozen  lines  for  Marsha! 
Duroc.  Then  he  rang  the  bell  and  asked  his  secretary  foi 
a  diplomatic  passport. 

‘  What  is  your  real  opinion  of  this  affair  ?  ’  he  asked, 
quietly  turning  to  Bordin. 

L  Then  do  you  not  know,  Monseigneur,  who  has 
entangled  us  so  thoroughly  ?  ’ 

c  I  think  I  do,  but  I  have  my  reasons  for  wishing  tc 
make  sure,’  returned  the  Prince.  Then,  turning  to  the 
Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf,  he  added,  ‘Go  to  Troyes 
Bring  back  the  Comtesse  de  Cinq-Cygne  with  you  here 
to-morrow  at  this  time ;  but  no  one  must  know  of  he, 
arrival.  Go  to  Madame  de  Talleyrand’s  apartments  \  I  wil 


A  Political  Trial 


213 

>repare  her  for  your  visit.  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne 
ihall  be  placed  where  she  can  see  a  man  who  will  stand  in 
ront  of  me.  If  she  recognises  in  him  an  agent  who  made 
he  domiciliary  visit  at  Cinq-Cygne,  in  the  time  of  the 
:onspiracy  of  MM.  de  Polignac  and  de  Riviere,  —  then  not 
1  word  !  not  a  gesture  !  whatever  I  may  say  or  he  may 
mswer.  Lastly,  you  must  not  think  of  saving  any  one 
)ut  the  MM.  de  Simeuse  and  d’Hauteserre ;  do  not  try 
o  hamper  yourselves  with  your  scapegrace  of  a  game- 
keeper.’ 

c  A  hero,  Monseigneur !  ’  cried  Bordin. 

c  What !  enthusiasm  !  and  in  you ,  Bordin  ?  The  man 
nust  be  something  indeed  !  —  Our  sovereign  lord,  M.  le 
Marquis,  is  prodigiously  vain  ;  he  will  dismiss  me  before 
ong,  to  carry  out  his  follies  without  contradiction.  He  is 
1  great  soldier  that  can  control  the  laws  of  time  and  space ; 
out  he  cannot  change  men’s  natures,  and  he  would  like  to 
nould  them  to  his  uses.  Now,  do  not  forget  that  your 
relatives’  pardon  can  only  be  obtained  by  one  person,  and 
:hat  person  is  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne.’ 

The  Marquis  went  over  to  Troyes,  alone,  and  told 
Laurence  how  things  stood.  Laurence  obtained  permission 
to  see  Michu,  from  the  attorney-general.  The  Marquis 
went  with  her  as  far  as  the  gate  of  the  prison  and  waited 
for  her  outside.  When  she  came  out  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears. 

c  Poor  fellow,  he  tried  to  kneel  to  beg  me  not  to  give 
him  another  thought,  and  forgot  the  irons  on  his  feet,’  she 
broke  out.  cOh  !  Marquis,  I  will  plead  his  cause.  Yes,  I 
will  kiss  their  Emperor’s  boot.  And  if  I  fail,  Michu  shall 
live  forever  in  our  family  ;  I  will  see  to  that.  Present  the 
petition  for  mercy,  to  gain  time  ;  I  must  have  his  picture. 
.  .  .  Let  us  go.’ 

Next  day,  when  the  Minister  knew  by  a  preconcerted 
signal  that  Laurence  was  at  her  post,  he  rang  his  bell, 
and  the  attendant  received  orders  to  introduce  M.  Corentin, 


214  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  You  are  a  clever  man,  my  dear  fellow,  and  I  wish  to 
employ  you,’  said  Talleyrand. 

4  My  lord - ’ 

4  Listen.  In  Fouche’s  service  you  will  make  money, 
but  you  will  never  gain  honour  nor  a  position ;  but  if  you 
continue  to  serve  me  as  you  did  just  now  at  Berlin,  you 
will  be  respected.’ 

4  You  are  very  good,  my  lord - ’ 

4  You  showed  genius  in  that  last  business,  at  Gondre¬ 
ville.’ 

4  Of  what  do  you  speak,  Monseigneur  ?’  asked  Corentin, 
neither  over-indifferent  nor  too  much  surprised. 

4  Monsieur,’  the  Minister  returned  dryly, 4  you  will  never 
be  anything;  you  are  afraid - ’ 

4  Of  what,  Monseigneur?’ 

4  Of  death  !  ’  said  the  Minister,  in  those  rich,  deep, 
hollow  tones  of  his.  4  Good  day,  my  dear  fellow.’ 

4  It  is  the  man,’  said  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf,  coming 
into  the  room,  4  but  we  have  all  but  killed  the  Countess  : 
she  is  speechless  with  anger.’ 

4  Nobody  else  could  play  such  a  trick,’  said  the  Minister, 
— 4  There  is  a  chance,  my  lord  Marquis,’  continued  he. 
4  that  your  plans  may  miscarry.  Set  out  as  if  you  intenc 
to  go  by  way  of  Strasbourg.  I  will  have  your  passports 
made  out  in  duplicate,  and  in  the  second,  the  route  shall 
be  left  blank.  Have  doubles,  change  your  direction 
adroitly,  and,  more  important  still,  change  your  travelling 
carriage;  leave  your  doubles  to  be  stopped  at  Strasbourg 
in  your  stead,  and  travel  by  way  of  Switzerland  and  Bavaria 
to  Prussia.  Not  a  word  to  any  one,  and  be  careful.  You 
have  to  do  with  the  police ;  you  do  not  know  what  the 
police  is !  ’ 

Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  offered  Robert  Lefebvre 
a  sum  sufficient  to  induce  him  to  come  to  Troyes  to  pain! 
Michu’s  portrait ;  and  M.  de  Granville  undertook  to  give 


A  Political  Trial 


215 

he  famous  painter  of  the  day  all  possible  facilities.  M. 
le  Chargebceuf  set  out  in  the  old  berlingot  with  Laurence 
md  a  man-servant  who  could  speak  German.  But  Made- 
noiselle  Goujet  and  Gothard  had  started  ahead  of  them  in 
m  excellent  caleche,  and  near  Nancy  the  two  parties  met, 
md  exchanged  carriages.  At  Strasbourg,  accordingly,  the 
:ommissary  of  police  refused  his  visa  to  the  travellers’ 
passport,  pleading  strict  orders.  And  at  that  very  mo¬ 
ment,  Laurence  and  the  Marquis  left  France  behind,  show- 
ng  their  passports  at  Besan^on. 

Laurence  crossed  Switzerland  in  early  October,  without 
raying  the  slightest  heed  to  the  wonderful  scenery  through 
A^hich  she  travelled.  She  lay  back  in  the  carriage  in  the 
;orpor  that  creeps  over  the  condemned  man,  when  he 
cnows  that  the  hour  is  come.  In  such  hours,  all  the  world 
s  shut  out  by  an  eddying  mist,  and  every  commonplace 
Ling  wears  a  strange,  unfamiliar  aspect.  The  thought, 
If  I  fail,  they  will  die  by  their  own  hands  in  prison,’  beat 
n  upon  her  brain,  as  the  blow  of  the  headsman’s  club  falls 
)n  the  limbs  of  the  victim  broken  on  the  wheel.  She  felt 
nore  and  more  exhausted ;  she  lost  all  her  energy  in  the 
juspense  as  the  cruel,  swift,  decisive  moment  drew  nearer, 
vhen  she  should  be  face  to  face  with  the  man  on  whom 
;he  four  lives  depended.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to 
*ive  way  to  languor  in  the  interval,  so  as  to  save  all  her 
;trength.  These  calculations  of  a  strong  nature  manifest 
:hemselves  in  different  ways.  Some  loftier  souls  find  relief 
n  unexpected  gayety  during  the  supreme  hour  of  sus- 
Dense.  The  Marquis  could  not  understand  Laurence’s 
nood.  Sometimes  he  feared  that  he  might  not  bring  her 
ilive  to  an  audience,  solemn  only  for  the  suppliants,  yet 
;urely  it  assumed  proportions  beyond  those  of  ordinary 
private  life.  For  Laurence,  the  thought  that  she  must 
lumble  herself  to  the  man  whom  she  scorned  and  hated, 
neant  the  death  of  all  generous  sentiments  within  her. 

4  The  Laurence  that  lives  on  afterwards  will  be  a  dif- 


2i 6  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

ferent  creature  from  this  Laurence  that  is  about  to  die,’ 
she  thought. 

Still,  it  was  very  difficult  for  the  travellers  to  shut  their 
eyes  to  the  great  general  movement  which  they  felt  so 
soon  as  they  crossed  the  Prussian  frontier.  The  Jena 
campaign  had  begun.  Laurence  and  the  Marquis  saw  the 
magnificent  divisions  of  the  French  army  passed  in  review, 
and  deploying  here  as  at  the  Tuileries.  Seen  through  the 
pomp  and  splendour  of  war,  —  a  splendour  that  can  only 
be  described  in  biblical  language,  —  the  man  whose  spirit 
moved  those  masses  of  men  loomed  like  a  giant  in  Lau¬ 
rence’s  imagination.  Before  long  the  word  victory  rang 
in  her  ears.  The  Imperial  troops  had  gained  two  signal 
advantages.  Prince  Frederick  Louis  of  Prussia  had  been 
killed  at  Saalfeld  the  day  before  the  travellers  reached  it 
in  their  effort  to  overtake  Napoleon’s  lightning  speed. 

At  last,  on  the  13th  of  October,  that  day  of  evil  augury, 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne’s  travelling  carriage  overtook 
the  main  body  of  the  army,  and  drove  along  by  a  river 
through  the  middle  of  the  camp.  She  saw  nothing  but 
confusion.  They  were  sent  from  village  to  village,  from 
division  to  division,  until  she  grew  alarmed  to  think  that 
she  and  the  old  man  with  her  were  drifting  hither  and 
thither  alone  in  an  ocean  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
men,  facing  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  the  enemy. 
Tired  of  seeing  the  line  of  river  over  the  hedge-row  by  the 
muddy  road  along  the  slope,  which  they  were  following,: 
she  asked  the  soldier  what  it  was  called. 

c  The  Saale,’  he  answered,  and  he  pointed  out  the  great 
masses  of  the  Prussian  army  on  the  other  side. 

Night  came  on.  Laurence  saw  the  watch-fires  lighted, 
and  the  glitter  of  steel.  The  old  Marquis  with  chivalrous! 
courage  mounted  the  box-seat  beside  the  new  servant,  and 
himself  drove  the  two  strong  horses  purchased  the  day  be¬ 
fore.  He  knew  that  he  should  find  neither  horses  nor  pos¬ 
tilions  on  a  field  of  battle.  The  army  wondered  at  the 


A  Political  Trial 


217 

mdacious  carriage,  till  a  field  gendarme  brought  it  to  a 
tand,  and  rode  down  upon  the  Marquis  shouting  :  — 

c  Who  are  you  ?  Where  are  you  going  ?  Whom  do  you 
vant  ? ’ 

‘The  Emperor/  replied  the  Marquis  de  Chargeboeuf. 
I  have  an  important  despatch  from  the  cabinet  for  Grand 
Marshal  Duroc.’ 

c  Very  well.  You  cannot  stop  here/  said  the  man.  But 
vdademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  and  the  Marquis  were 
obliged  to  stop,  and  so  much  the  more  so  because  it  was 
growing  dark. 

‘  Where  are  we  ?  ’  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  asked 
>f  two  officers  who  came  past,  their  uniforms  hidden  by 
>lain  greatcoats. 

‘You  are  in  advance  of  the  French  advanced  guard, 
Madame/  returned  one  of  the  officers.  ‘You  cannot  stay 
lere,  for  if  the  enemy  moves  our  batteries  will  begin  to 
>lay;  you  will  be  between  two  fires.’ 

‘  Oh  !  ’  she  said  indifferently. 

At  the  sound  of  that  c  oh  !  ’  the  other  officer  spoke. 

‘  How  comes  this  woman  to  be  here  ?  ’ 

I1  lWe  are  waiting  for  a  gendarme/  said  Laurence;  ‘he 
las  gone  to  announce  our  arrival  to  M.  Duroc,  who  will 
ise  his  influence  to  obtain  an  interview  with  the  Emperor 
or  us.’ 

‘  An  interview  with  the  Emperor !  ’  .  .  .  exclaimed 
he  first  officer.  ‘  Can  you  think  of  it  on  the  eve  of  a  de- 
:isive  engagement  ?  ’ 

‘Ah!  you  are  right/  she  said.  ‘I  should  wait  till  the 
lay  after  to-morrow.  Victory  will  soften  him.’ 

The  two  officers  moved  away  twenty  paces  toward  the 
lorses  that  were  standing  quietly,  waiting  for  them  to 
nount ;  and  the  caleche  was  forthwith  surrounded  by  an 
xtremely  brilliant  array  of  marshals  and  officers,  who 
espected  the  carriage  precisely  because  it  was  standing 

here. 

L 


2 1 8  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

c  Great  heavens  ! ’  exclaimed  the  Marquis,  c  I  am  afraid 
that  we  were  speaking  to  the  Emperor/ 

<•  The  Emperor  ?  ’  repeated  a  colonel-general, c  why,  there 
he  is  ! 9 

Then  Laurence  saw  him  a  few  paces  away,  alone  and  in 
front  of  the  others.  The  officer  who  exclaimed,  c  How 
comes  this  woman  to  be  here,’  was  the  Emperor  himself,  in 
a  green  uniform  covered  by  his  famous  greatcoat.  He  had 
mounted  a  richly  caparisoned  white  horse,  and  now  with  a 
field-glass  in  his  hand  he  was  intently  studying  the  Prussian 
army  beyond  the  Saale.  Laurence  knew  why  the  caleche 
was  allowed  to  remain  and  why  the  Emperor’s  escort  re¬ 
spected  it.  A  sudden  revulsion  passed  through  her.  The 
hour  had  come.  But  at  that  moment  she  heard  the  dull 
heavy  sound  of  a  moving  battery  and  the  tramp  of  masses 
of  men  advancing  in  quick  time,  and  the  guns  were  put  in 
position  on  the  plateau.  The  batteries  seemed  to  have  a 
language  of  their  own ;  the  caissons  vibrated  ;  the  metal 
gleamed. 

<•  Marshal  Lannes  and  his  whole  corps  to  the  front ! 
Marshal  Lefebvre  and  the  Guard  to  occupy  the  summit !  ’ 
said  the  other  officer —  Major  General  Berthier. 

The  Emperor  dismounted.  At  the  first  sign,  his  favour¬ 
ite  mameluke  Roustan  ran  forward  to  hold  the  horse. 
Laurence  was  stupid  with  astonishment.  She  could  not 
believe  that  all  this  could  happen  so  simply. 

4 1  shall  spend  the  night  here  on  the  plateau,’  said  the 
Emperor. 

As  he  spoke,  Grand  Marshal  Duroc,  whom  the  gendarme 
at  last  had  managed  to  find,  came  up  to  the  Marquis  de 
Chargebceuf  and  asked  the  reason  of  his  arrival.  The 
Marquis  replied  that  a  letter  from  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Relations  would  explain  how  urgently  necessary  it  was  that 
he  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  should  obtain  an 
audience  of  the  Emperor. 

<>  His  Majesty  is  about  to  dine  in  his  bivouac,  no  doubt,’ 


A  Political  Trial  219 

said  Duroc,  as  he  took  the  letter.  c  I  will  see  what  it  is  all 
about  and  let  you  know  if  it  can  be  done.  - —  Corporal !  go 
with  this  carriage  and  lead  the  way  to  the  hut  in  the  rear/ 
M.  de  Chargeboeuf  followed  the  field  gendarme  and 
came  to  a  stand  before  a  miserable  hut  built  of  earth  and 
wood.  A  few  fruit-trees  grew  about  the  place,  which  was 
guarded  by  pickets  of  horse  and  foot. 

Seen  from  the  top  of  the  hill  the  majesty  of  war  might 
be  said  to  shine  out  in  all  its  grandeur,  for  the  lines  of  both 
armies  lay  out  below  in  the  moonlight.  An  hour  went  by, 
amid  continual  coming  and  going  of  aides-de-camp,  till 
Duroc  came  himself  and  made  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne 
and  the  Marquis  enter  the  hut.  The  floor  was  of  trampled 
earth  like  a  barn  floor.  Dinner  had  just  been  removed 
from  the  table,  at  which  Napoleon  was  sitting  on  a  rough 
chair  by  a  smoky  fire  of  green  wood.  It  was  plain  from 
his  muddy  boots  that  he  had  been  riding  about  across 
country.  He  had  taken  off*  his  famous  greatcoat,  and 
wore  the  well-known  green  uniform  with  the  broad  red 
ribbon,  set  off*  by  white  kerseymere  breeches  and  a  white 
waistcoat,  a  costume  that  set  off  his  pale,  stern  Caesar’s  face 
to  advantage.  His  hand  lay  on  a  map  unfolded  over  his 
knees.  Berthier,  in  the  brilliant  costume  of  a  Vice-Con¬ 
stable  of  the  Empire,  stood  behind  him,  and  Constant,  his 
body-servant,  was  handing  the  Emperor  his  cup  of  coffee 
on  a  tray. 

c  What  do  you  want  ?  ’  he  asked,  with  affected  bluntness ; 
and  a  glance  like  a  shaft  of  light  seemed  to  look  Laurence 
through  and  through.  c  So  you  are  not  afraid  now  to  speak 
to  me  before  the  battle  ?  .  .  .  What  is  it  about  ?  ’ 

c  Sire,’  she  said,  looking  back  as  steadily  at  him,  c  I  am 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne.’ 

‘  Well  ?  ’  returned  the  Emperor  sharply,  thinking  that 
the  glance  meant  defiance. 

c  Do  you  not  understand  ?  I  am  the  Comtesse  de  Cinq- 
Cygne,  and  I  ask  for  mercy,’  she  said,  kneeling  as  she  held 


220  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

cut  the  memorial  drawn  up  by  Talleyrand,  with  foot-notes 
by  the  Empress,  Cambaceres,  and  Malin. 

The  Emperor  graciously  raised  the  kneeling  girl,  saying 
with  a  shrewd  glance  :  — 

4  Will  you  be  good  now  ?  Do  you  understand  what  the 
French  Empire  ought  to  be  ?  9 

4  Ah  !  just  at  this  moment  I  understand  nothing  but  the 
Emperor/  she  said,  overcome  by  the  debonair  manner  in 
which  this  controller  of  fate  spoke  the  words  that  hinted  at 
pardon. 

4  Are  they  innocent  ? 9  asked  the  Emperor. 

c  All  of  them/  she  cried  passionately. 

4  All  ?  Ah  !  no.  The  gamekeeper  is  a  dangerous  character ; 
he  might  kill  my  Senator  without  asking  your  leave - 9 

4  Sire  ! 9  she  exclaimed,  4  if  you  had  a  friend  that  had  de¬ 
voted  himself  to  you,  would  you  desert  him  ?  Would  not 
you - 5 

4  You  are  a  woman/  he  interrupted,  with  a  trace  of  banter 
in  his  voice. 

4  And  you  are  a  man  of  iron!  ’  she  cried,  with  an  impas¬ 
sioned  harshness  that  pleased  him. 

4  The  man  has  been  condemned  after  a  fair  trial/  he 
continued. 

4  But  he  is  not  guilty/ 

4  Child  !  .  .  .’  said  the  Emperor.  He  took  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Cinq-Cygne  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  out  upon  the 
plateau.  Then  he  spoke  with  that  eloquence  of  his  that 
could  turn  cowards  into  brave  men. 

4  There ! 9  he  said,  4  there  are  three  hundred  thousand 
men,  —  they,  too,  are  guiltless.  Well,  and  by  this  time 
to-morrow,  thirty  thousand  men  will  have  died,  and  died 
for  their  country.  Perhaps  among  the  Prussians  yonder 
there  is  some  great  mechanician,  some  man  with  ideas  in 
his  head,  some  genius,  to  be  mown  down  to-morrow.  And 
we,  too,  on  our  side,  shall  surely  lose  great  men  that  will 
die  unrecognised.  I  myself,  perhaps,  may  see  my  best 


A  Political  Trial  221 

friend  fall.  —  Shall  I  cry  out  against  God  ?  No.  I  shall 
be  silent.  Bear  this  in  mind,  Mademoiselle,  that  a  man 
is  as  much  bound  to  die  for  the  laws  of  his  country,  as  to 
die  here  for  glory,’  he  added,  leading  the  way  into  the 
hut.  — ‘Now,  go  back  to  France,’  he  said,  turning  to  the 
Marquis,  c  my  orders  will  follow  you  thither.’ 

Laurence  believed  that  Michu’s  punishment  was  to  be 
commuted,  and,  in  a  great  outpouring  of  gratitude,  she  knelt 
and  kissed  the  Emperor’s  hand. 

You  are  M.  de  Chargeboeuf,  are  you  not  ?  ’  said  the 
Lmperor,  confronting  the  Marquis. 

‘Yes,  Sire.’ 

‘  Have  you  a  family  ?  ’ 

‘  A  large  family.’ 

‘  Why  should  you  not  give  me  one  of  your  grandsons  ? 
rie  should  be  one  of  my  pages.  .  . 

(‘  Ah  !  thought  Laurence,  ‘  the  sub-lieutenant  peeps  out ; 
he  means  to  be  paid  for  his  pardon.’) 

The  Marquis  bowed  for  all  reply ;  but  luckily  General 
Kapp  came  hurrying  in  at  that  very  moment. 

‘  Sire>  the  horse-guards  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Berg’s 
cavalry  cannot  come  up  to-morrow  before  noon.’ 

‘  It  is  of  no  consequence,’  said  Napoleon,  addressing 
berthier;  ‘for  us,  too,  there  are  propitious  moments,  let  us 
turn  them  to  account.’ 

At  a  sign  of  dismissal,  Laurence  and  the  Marquis  with¬ 
drew  to  the  carriage.  The  corporal  set  them  on  their  way, 
and  escorted  them  to  a  village  where  they  passed  the  night. 

■  Next  day  they  travelled  further  and  further  from  the  field 
o  attle,  to  the  sound  of  eight  hundred  cannon  that  thun- 
dered  incessantly  for  ten  hours.  The  tidings  of  the  won¬ 
derful  victory  of  Jena  overtook  them  by  the  way.  A  week 
later,  they  reached  the  suburbs  of  Troyes.  An  order  from 
t  e  lef  Justiciary,  sent  through  the  attorney-general 
attached  to  the  Court  of  First  Instance  at  Troyes,  directed 
that  the  four  gentlemen  should  be  set  at  liberty  on  bail, 


222  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

pending  the  decision  of  his  Majesty,  Emperor  and  King ; 
but  at  the  same  time,  a  second  order  for  Michu’s  execution 
was  sent  down  by  the  head  of  the  staff  of  counsel  for  the 
prosecution.  The  news  had  arrived  that  very  morning,  a 
Laurence  went  forthwith  to  the  prison.  It  was  two  o’clock. 
She  had  not  changed  her  travelling  dress.  She  gained  per¬ 
mission  to  stay  with  Michu  through  the  last  sad  ceremony 
called  c  the  toilet.’  The  Abbe  Goujet,  good  man,  had  T 
asked  leave  to  go  with  Michu  to  the  scaffold.  Absolution 
had  just  been  given,  and  Michu  was  lamenting  that  he 
must  die  without  knowing  what  would  become  of  his  mas¬ 
ters.  So  when  Laurence  came  in,  he  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

c  I  can  die  now  !  ’  said  he. 

c  They  are  pardoned  ;  I  do  not  know  the  conditions,  but 
they  are  pardoned,’  returned  Laurence.  c  And  I  left  nothing 
untried  to  save  you,  my  friend,  in  spite  of  their  advice.  I  , 
thought  I  had  saved  you,  but  the  Emperor  deceived  me 
with  his  royal  graciousness.’ 

c  It  was  decreed  above  that  the  watch-dog  should  die  on 
the  same  spot  as  his  old  master  and  mistress,’  said  Michu. 

The  last  hour  went  by  very  quickly.  When  it  was 
time  to  leave  the  prison  Michu  ventured  only  to  raise 
Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne’s  hand  to  his  lips  ;  but  she 
held  up  her  face  for  the  noble  victim’s  solemn  kiss. 

Michu  refused  to  ride  in  the  cart. 

c  The  innocent  ought  to  go  afoot,’  he  said. 

Nor  would  he  allow  the  Abbe  Goujet  to  lend  his  arm ; 
he  walked  with  dignity  and  resolution  to  the  scaffold.  As 
he  lay  on  the  plank  he  spoke  to  the  executioner,  asking 
the  man  to  turn  back  the  collar  of  his  coat,  which  covered 
his  neck. 

‘  My  clothes  belong  to  you,’  he  said ;  c  try  to  keep  it 
clean.’ 

The  four  gentlemen  had  scarcely  time  to  see  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Cinq-Cygne.  An  orderly  came  from  the  general 
in  command  of  the  division,  bringing  sub-lieutenants’  com- 


A  Political  Trial 


223 

missions  for  them  all  in  the  same  regiment  of  cavalry, 
together  with  orders  to  repair  at  once  to  the  depot  at 
Bayonne.  There  were  heartrending  farewells,  for  all  of 
them  had  some  foreboding  of  the  future,  and  Laurence 
went  back  to  her  desolate  chateau. 

The  twin  brothers  fell  together  under  the  Emperor’s 
eyes  at  Somosierra,  the  one  defending  the  other.  Their 
last  words  were  — c  Laurence,  Cy  meurs  ! 9 

Both  had  reached  the  rank  of  major.  Robert  d’Hauteserre 
fell  as  a  colonel  in  the  attack  on  the  redoubt  at  Borodino, 
and  his  brother  took  his  place. 

After  the  battle  of  Dresden  Adrien  became  a  brigadier- 
general  ;  but  he  was  badly  wounded,  and  came  home  to 
Cinq-Cygne  to  be  nursed.  And  then  it  was  that  the 
Countess,  a  woman  of  two  and  thirty,  married  Adrien 
d’Hauteserre  to  save  the  last  of  the  four  nobles  who  had 
once  been  around  her.  She  had  only  a  blighted  heart  to 
give,  but  he  took  it,  as  those  who  love  can  take,  doubting 
nothing,  when  they  have  not  lost  faith  altogether. 

The  Restoration  roused  no  enthusiasm  in  Laurence. 
For  her  the  Bourbons  came  back  too  late.  Yet  she  had 
no  reason  to  complain ;  her  husband  became  a  peer  of 
France,  with  the  title  of  Marquis  de  Cinq-Cygne,  he  re¬ 
ceived  the  appointment  of  lieutenant-general  in  1816,  and 
was  rewarded  by  the  blue  ribbon  for  conspicuous  services 
then  rendered  to  the  cause. 

Laurence  brought  up  Michu’s  son  as  if  he  had  been 
her  own  child.  He  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1827;  and 
after  two  years’  practice,  was  nominated  assistant  judge 
in  the  tribunal  at  Alen^on,  and  subsequently  became 
attorney  for  the  crown  at  the  Arcis  tribunal.  Laurence 
had  invested  Michu’s  capital.  She  handed  over  rentes 
bringing  in  an  income  of  twelve  thousand  livres  to  the 
young  man  when  he  came  of  age  \  and  afterwards  arranged 


224  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

a  marriage  between  him  and  a  rich  heiress  —  Mademoiselle 
Girel  of  Troyes. 

In  1829,  the  Marquis  de  Cinq-Cygne  died  in  Lau¬ 
rence’s  arms ;  his  father,  and  mother,  and  children,  who 
idolised  him,  were  about  him  at  the  last.  At  the  time 
of  his  death,  no  one  had  succeeded  in  penetrating  the 
secret.  How  the  Senator  was  kidnapped  remained  a 
mystery.  Louis  XVIII  by  no  means  refused  to  make 
reparation  for  the  injury  done  by  the  affair,  but  on  the 
subject  of  its  causes  he  was  dumb ;  and  thenceforth  the 
Marquise  de  Cinq-Cygne  was  persuaded  that  the  King  was 
implicated  in  the  catastrophe. 


I 

CONCLUSION 

The  late  Marquis  de  Cinq-Cygne  had  invested  his  own 
savings  and  those  of  his  father  and  mother  in  the  pur¬ 
chase  of  a  splendid  mansion  in  the  Rue  du  Faubourg 
du  Roule.  The  house  formed  a  part  of  a  considerable 
estate  entailed  for  the  maintenance  of  the  title.  This 
explained  the  economy  practised  by  the  Marquis  and  his 
relatives  till  it  became  a  sordid  parsimony  which  often 
grieved  Laurence.  So  after  the  purchase  was  completed, 
the  Marquise  ceased  to  live  entirely  on  her  estates  (where 
she  hoarded  money  for  her  children),  and  spent  the  win¬ 
ters  in  town  the  more  willingly  because  her  daughter 
Berthe  and  her  son  Paul  had  reached  an  age  when  their 
education  required  the  resources  of  Paris.  Madame  de 
Cinq-Cygne  went  very  little  into  society.  Her  husband 
could  not  fail  to  know  that  she  always  carried  regrets  in 
her  heart ;  but  for  her  he  showed  the  most  ingenious 
delicacy,  and  died,  having  loved  but  the  one  woman  in 
the  world.  To  that  noble,  so  long  slighted  heart,  the 
generous  daughter  of  the  Cinq-Cygnes  returned  as  much 
love  as  she  received  during  the  last  years  of  their  life 
together ;  and  Adrien  was  completely  happy  after  all. 

Laurence  lives  now  for  the  joys  of  family  life.  No 
woman  in  Paris  is  more  loved  and  respected  by  her  friends. 
To  visit  at  her  house  is  an  honour.  Gentle,  indulgent, 
intelligent,  and  what  is  more,  simple,  she  charms  all  finer 
and  rarer  natures,  and  attracts  them  to  herself,  in  spite  of 
the  trace  of  sadness  in  her  manner.  Each  of  her  friends 
seems  to  himself  to  protect  a  woman  so  really  strong; 
and  perhaps  in  that  secret  attitude  of  protector  lies  the 
P  225 


226 


A  Gondreville  Mystery 

charm  of  her  friendships.  The  evening  of  Laurence’s  life 
is  fair  and  serene  after  her  sad  and  troubled  youth.  People 
know  what  she  has  passed  through.  Nobody  has  ever 
asked  a  question  about  a  portrait,  painted  by  Robert  Le- 
febvre,  on  her  drawing-room  wall,  its  principal  sad  orna¬ 
ment  since  the  keeper’s  death  on  the  scaffold.  Laurence’s 
face  wears  the  look  of  a  hardly  attained  maturity,  as  of  fruit 
ripened  in  spite  of  difficulties.  Something  like  religious 
courage  crowns  the  brows  that  have  emerged  from  many 
trials. 

The  Marquise  de  Cinq-Cygne’s  fortune,  increased  by  the 
law  of  indemnity,  amounts  to  two  hundred  thousand  livres, 
a  year,  without  taking  her  husband’s  income  into  account. 
She  had  inherited  the  eleven  hundred  thousand  francs  left 
by  the  Simeuses.  Thenceforward  she  spent  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  per  annum,  and  saved  the  rest  for  Berthe’s 

Berthe  is  the  living  portrait  of  her  mother,  with  none  of 
her  daring  spirit ;  she  is  her  mother  over  again,  grown 
dainty,  sprightly,  4  more  feminine,’  as  Laurence  says  with  a 
sigh.  The  Marquise  would  not  hear  of  a  marriage  for  her 
daughter  till  Berthe  was  twenty  years  old.  The  savings  of 
the  family  had  been  judiciously  invested  by  old  d’Haute- 
serre  when  the  funds  suddenly  fell  in  1830,  so  that  by  the 
time  Berthe  was  twenty  years  old,  in  1833,  her  portion 
amounted  to  eighty  thousand  francs  a  year. 

About  that  time  the  Princesse  de  Cadignan,  wishing  to 
marry  her  son,  the  Due  de  Maufrigneuse,  had  gained  an 
intimate  footing  for  him  in  the  Marquise  de  Cinq-Cygne’s 
house.  For  some  months  past  Georges  de  Maufrigneuse 
had  dined  three  times  a  week  at  the  Hotel  Cinq-Cygne. 
He  escorted  the  mother  and  daughter  to  the  Italiens,  he 
caracoled  about  their  carriage  in  the  Bois.  It  was  plain  tc 
the  Faubourg  Saint  Germain  that  Georges  was  in  love  with 
Berthe,  but  no  one  could  find  out  whether  Madame  de 
Cinq-Cygne  wished  her  daughter  to  be  a  duchess  until  such 


Conclusion 


227 

5time  as  she  should  be  a  princess,  or  whether  it  was  the 
Princess  who  would  fain  secure  so  fine  a  fortune  for  her 
son.  Was  the  celebrated  Diane  making  advances  to  the 
country  noblesse  ?  Or  were  the  provincial  noblesse  dis¬ 
mayed  by  Madame  de  Cadignan’s  celebrity,  or  frightened 
by  her  tastes  and  ruinous  life  ? 

The  Princess  had  grown  devout.  In  her  anxiety  to  do 
nothing  to  injure  her  son’s  prospects,  she  immured  herself 
in  private  life,  and  spent  the  summer  in  a  villa  at  Geneva. 

One  evening,  the  Marquise  d’Espard  and  de  Marsay, 
president  of  the  council,  were  both  at  the  Princesse  de 
Cadignan’s.  She  saw  her  old  lover  that  night  for  the  last 
time,  for  he  died  during  the  following  year.  Others  were 
I  there  besides.  Rastignac,  under  secretary  of  state  to  de 
!  Marsay,  a  couple  of  ambassadors,  one  or  two  celebrated 
orators  still  left  in  the  House  of  Peers,  the  old  Dues  de 
Lenoncourt  and  de  Navarreins,  the  Comte  de  Vandenesse 
and  his  young  wife,  and  d’Arthez  formed  a  strangely 
assorted  circle,  though  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  account 
pfor  their  presence.  It  was  a  question  of  obtaining  a  pass 
(  for  the  Prince  de  Cadignan,  from  the  Prime  Minister,  and 
de  Marsay,  unwilling  to  take  the  responsibility  of  granting 
the  permit,  had  come  to  tell  the  Princess  that  the  matter 
was  in  good  hands.  An  old  political  hand  was  to  bring  a 
solution  of  the  difficulty  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

The  Marquise  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne  were 
announced.  Laurence,  who  never  wavered  in  her  prin¬ 
ciples,  was  not  so  much  surprised  as  shocked  to  find  the 
foremost  representatives  of  the  Legitimist  cause  in  either 
house  talking  and  laughing  with  the  prime  minister  of  a 
sovereign  whom  she  always  spoke  of  as  c  Monseigneur  le 
'  Due  d’Orleans.’  De  Marsay,  like  a  failing  lamp,  shone 
j  brilliantly  at  the  last ;  he  was  glad  to  forget  political 
anxieties  for  a  little  while.  The  Marquise  de  Cinq-Cygne, 
however,  tolerated  de  Marsay  very  much  as  the  Austrian 


228  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

court  had  just  accepted  M.  de  Saint-Aulaire —  the  man 
of  the  world  made  the  minister  passable ;  but  when  M. 
le  Comte  de  Gondreville  was  announced  she  rose  as  though 
her  chair  had  been  heated  red-hot. 

c  Good-bye,  Madame,’  she  said  stiffly,  addressing  the 
Princess;  and  went,  taking  Berthe  with  her,  picking  her 
way  across  the  room  so  as  to  avoid  any  encounter  with  a 
man  so  fatal  to  her. 

c  You  have  perhaps  broken  off  Georges’  marriage,’  the 
Princess  murmured  for  de  Marsay’s  benefit. 

Malin,  the  lawyer’s  clerk  from  Arcis,  the  Representative 
of  the  People.  The  Thermidorean,  the  tribune,  the  state 
councillor,  count  and  senator  under  the  Emperor,  the 
peer  of  France  by  a  grant  of  Louis  XVIII,  and  one  of 
the  new  peers  of  July,  now  made  an  obsequious  bow  to 
the  Princesse  de  Cadignan. 

cYou  need  tremble  no  longer,  fair  lady,  lest  we  wage 
war  against  princes,’  said  he,  taking  a  seat  beside  her. 

Malin  had  enjoyed  the  esteem  of  Louis  XVIII,  for  his 
long  experience  had  been  useful  to  that  monarch.  He 
had  contributed  not  a  little  to  Decaze’s  overthrow,  and 
Villele  had  received  the  full  benefit  of  his  counsels.  As 
Charles  X  gave  him  a  cool  reception,  however,  he  had 
thought  fit  to  adopt  Talleyrand’s  grudge.  He  was  now 
in  high  favour  with  the  twelfth  government  under  which 
he  had  served  and  would  probably  one  day  dis-serve. 
His  friendship  with  one  of  our  most  famous  diplomatists  — 
a  friendship  of  thirty-six  years’  standing  —  had  come  to  an 
end  during  the  past  fifteen  months.  It  was  during  the 
course  of  this  evening  that  he  made  an  epigram  at  the 
expense  of  the  great  politician. 

<■  Do  you  know  why  he  is  hostile  to  the  Due  de  Bor¬ 
deaux  ?  .  .  .  The  claimant  is  too  young - ’ 

<•  You  are  giving  singular  counsel  to  young  men,’  re¬ 
marked  Rastignac. 

De  Marsay  had  grown  very  thoughtful  since  the  Prin- 


Conclusion  229 

cess  spoke.  He  took  no  part  in  the  lively  conversation, 
but  sat  quietly  watching  Gondreville.  The  old  man 
always  went  to  bed  early,  and  de  Marsay  was  evidently 
waiting  for  him  to  go.  The  rest  of  the  party  followed 
de  Marsay’s  example ;  they  had  seen  Madame  de  Cinq- 
Cygne  leave  the  room  and  knew  her  reasons  for  so  doing. 
Gondreville  had  not  noticed  the  Marquise,  nor  did  he 
understand  the  cause  of  the  general  reserve ;  but  business 
and  political  life  had  taught  him  tact,  and  he  was,  besides, 
quick-witted.  Thinking  that  he  was  in  the  way,  the  old 
man  of  seventy  took  his  leave  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door. 

De  Marsay,  standing  by  the  hearth,  watched  him  go  with 
an  expression  that  suggested  grave  thoughts. 

c  I  did  wrong,  Madame,  when  I  omitted  to  give  you  the 
name  of  any  negotiator,’  the  Prime  Minister  said  at  last 
when  the  carriage  had  rolled  away.  c  But  I  will  redeem 
my  fault,  and  put  it  in  your  power  to  make  your  peace 
with  the  Cinq-Cygnes.  These  things  happened  more  than 
thirty  years  ago.  It  is  as  old  a  story  as  the  death  of  Henri 
Quatre ;  though  in  truth  between  ourselves,  and  in  spite  of 
the  proverb,  that  story  (like  a  good  many  more  tragedies 
in  history)  is  known  to  scarcely  any  one.  I  vow  and  de¬ 
clare,  at  any  rate,  that  even  if  this  affair  did  not  concern 
the  Marquise,  it  would  be  none  the  less  interesting ;  for  as 
a  matter  of  fact  it  throws  a  light  on  a  famous  passage  in 
our  modern  annals,  —  the  passage  of  the  Mont  Saint 
Bernard.  MM.  les  Ambassadeurs  will  see  that  in  the 
matter  of  depth  our  latter-day  politicians  are  very  far 
removed  from  the  Machiavellis  who  were  raised  on  high 
above  the  region  of  storms  by  the  popular  upheaval  of  1793* 
Some  of  these  have  latterly  “  found  a  port,”  as  novelists 
say.  You  must  have  been  tossed  through  the  hurricanes 
of  those  times  if  you  would  be  anything  in  France  to-day. 

<•  But  it  seems  to  me,’  smiled  the  Princess,  c  that  in  that 
respect  your  state  of  things  at  present  leaves  nothing  to 
be  desired - ’ 


230  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

A  little  burst  of  polite  laughter  followed  this  speech ;  de 
Marsay  could  not  help  smiling.  The  ambassadors  seemed 
to  be  listening  eagerly.  A  sudden  fit  of  coughing  seized 
de  Marsay,  and  the  rest  were  silent. 

c  One  night  in  June,  1800,’  the  Prime  Minister  began, 
cjust  as  the  light  of  the  candles  grew  faint  in  the  dawn, 
two  men  in  the  salon  of  the  Hotel  of  the  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  grew  tired  of  bouillotte  (perhaps  they  had 
only  been  playing  to  amuse  others),  and  withdrew  to  a 
boudoir.  The  Hotel  used  to  be  in  the  Rue  du  Bac  in  those 
days.  As  for  those  two  men  (one  of  them  is  dead  now, 
and  the  other  has  one  foot  in  the  grave),  each  was  in  his 
way  as  extraordinary  as  the  other.  Both  had  taken  holy 
orders,  and  subsequently  both  married.  One  had  been  a 
simple  Oratorian,  the  other  had  worn  a  mitre.  The  name 
of  the  first  was  Fouche,  I  do  not  tell  you  who  the  second 
was;  but  at  that  time  they  were  both  simple  French  citi¬ 
zens,  and  neither  of  them  particularly  simple. 

c  The  rest  of  the  party  left  in  the  salon  saw  them  go, 
and  looked  up  somewhat  curiously.  A  third  man  followed. 
This  personage  thought  himself  much  cleverer  than  the 
first  pair ;  his  name  was  Sieyes ;  and  as  you  all  know,  be¬ 
fore  the  Revolution  he  too  belonged  to  the  Church.  The 
lame  man  was  at  that  time  Minister  of  Foreign  Relations. 
Fouche  was  Minister  of  General  Police;  Sieyes  had  been 
consul  and  had  abdicated. 

c  A  phlegmatic,  stern  little  man  next  left  his  place,  re¬ 
marking  aloud  (so  I  was  told  by  some  one  who  heard  him) 
—  u  I  have  my  fears  of  a  triplet  of  priests/’  This  was  the 
Minister  of  War.  Carnot’s  remark  apparently  caused  no 
anxiety  to  the  two  consuls  over  their  game  at  cards  in  the 
salon.  Cambaceres  and  Lebrun  were  at  the  mercy  of 
their  ministers,  and  their  ministers  were  infinitely  cleverer 
men  than  they.  The  statesmen  of  that  time  are  now 
nearly  all  of  them  dead,  there  is  no  occasion  to  spare  them ; 
they  belong  to  the  province  of  history,  and  the  history  made 


Conclusion  231 

:hat  night  was  terrible.  I  tell  you  this,  because  I  alone 
know  about  it;  for  Louis  XVIII  told  poor  Madame  de 
iCinq-Cygne  nothing,  and  the  present  Government  has  no 
interest  in  discovering  the  truth. 

4  The  four  politicians  sat  down.  Before  they  had  had 
time  to  say  a  word,  the  lame  man  shut  the  door.  Some 
say  he  drew  the  bolt  (there  is  no  one  like  a  well-bred  man 
for  thinking  of  these  little  things).  The  three  priests’  hag¬ 
gard,  impassive  faces  looked  as  you  have  always  seen 
them.  Carnot’s  was  the  only  high-coloured  countenance 
among  them.  The  soldier  was  the  first  to  speak. 

4  44  What  is  in  question  ?  ” 

<•  “  France,”  the  Prince  might  have  said.  (I  admire  the 
Prince  as  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  men  of  our  time.) 

cu  The  Republic,”  Fouche  certainly  would  have  said. 

4  “  Power,”  was  probably  Sieyes’  reply.’ 

De  Marsay’s  rendering  of  the  three  speakers  was  so 
admirably  perfect  in  tones,  expressions,  and  gestures,  that 
his  audience  exchanged  glances. 

4  The  three  priests  understood  one  another  uncommonly 
well,’  he  continued.  4  Carnot  probably  looked  at  his  col¬ 
leagues  and  the  ex-consul  with  dignity  enough  ;  but  I  think 
he  must  have  felt  nonplussed  in  his  own  mind. 

4  cc  Do  you  believe  in  a  success  ?  ”  Sieyes  asked  him. 

4  “  Anything  may  be  expected  of  Bonaparte,”  returned 
the  Minister  of  War.  44  He  crossed  the  Alps  safely.” 

4  44  At  the  present  moment,”  remarked  the  diplomatist, 
with  measured  slowness,  44  he  is  staking  his  all.” 

4  44  In  short,  let  us  speak  out,”  said  Fouche.  44  What 
are  we  going  to  do,  if  the  First  Consul  is  beaten  ?  Is  it 
possible  to  reconstitute  an  army  ?  Are  we  to  remain  his 
humble  servants  ?  ”  , 

4  44There  is  no  Republic,  now,”  suggested  Sieyes ;  44  he 
is  Consul  for  ten  years.” 

4  44  He  has  more  power  than  Cromwell  had,  and  he  did 
not  vote  for  the  King’s  death,”  added  the  Bishop. 


2J2  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

cu  We  have  a  master,”  said  Fouche.  44  Shall  we  keep 
him  in  power  if  he  loses  the  battle  ?  Or  shall  we  return  to 
a  purely  Republican  government  ?  ” 

4  44  France  can  only  hold  out  if  she  recovers  the  energy 
of  the  time  of  the  Convention,”  Carnot  remarked  sen- 
tentiously. 

4  “  I  am  of  Carnot’s  opinion,”  said  Sieyes.  44  If  Bona¬ 
parte  is  defeated,  and  comes  back,  there  must  be  an  end  of 
him.  He  has  had  too  much  to  say  these  seven  months 
past.” 

4  u  He  has  the  army,”  Carnot  said  thoughtfully. 

4  u  We  shall  have  the  people  !  ”  cried  Fouche. 

4  44  You  are  prompt,  sir!”  remarked  the  grand  seigneur , 
and  at  the  sound  of  that  deep,  resonant  voice  the  Oratorian 
shrank  into  himself. 

4  44  Let  us  speak  out,”  said  a  fifth  person,  a  member  of 
the  old  Convention,  who  now  showed  his  face.  44  Let  us 
speak  out.  If  Bonaparte  wins  the  day,  we  will  bow  before 
him.  If  he  loses,  we  will  bury  him.” 

444  You  were  here,  Malin,”  said  the  master  of  the  house 
quite  imperturbably ;  44  you  will  be  one  of  us.”  And  he 
beckoned  the  new-comer  to  a  seat.  It  was  owing  to  this 
circumstance  that  a  sufficiently  obscure  member  of  the 
Convention  became  what  he  is  even  at  this  moment,  as 
we  have  just  seen.  Malin  was  discreet,  and  the  two  min¬ 
isters  stood  by  him ;  but  he  was  both  the  pivot  of  the 
machinery  and  the  soul  of  their  machinations. 

4  44  The  man  is  not  by  any  means  defeated  yet !  ”  Carnot 
exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  conviction,  44  and  he  has  just  out¬ 
done  Hannibal.” 

4  44  In  case  of  misfortune,  here  is  the  Directory,”  Sieyes 
returned,  very  acutely  pointing  out  as  he  spoke  that  they 
were  five  in  number. 

4  44  And  it  is  to  the  interest  of  each  one  of  us  to  maintain 
the  French  Republic,”  added  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Rela¬ 
tions  ;  44  three  of  us  have  thrown  the  cassock  to  the  dogs, 


Conclusion  233 

and  the  General  voted  for  the  King’s  death.  As  for  you  ” 
(turning  to  Malin),  44  you  own  emigres'  estates.” 

4  44  Our  interests  are  all  the  same,”  Sieyes  affirmed  peremp¬ 
torily,  44  and  our  interests  are  also  the  interests  of  the  country.” 

4  44  A  rare  coincidence,”  smiled  the  diplomatist. 

I  4  44  Action  is  imperative,”  added  Fouche.  44  The  battle  is 
being  fought  and  Melas’s  forces  are  superior.  Genoa  has 
|  surrendered,  and  Massena  has  blundered  into  embarking  for 
Antibes.  So  it  is  not  certain  that  he  can  effect  a  junction,  and 
Bonaparte  in  that  case  will  be  thrown  on  his  own  resources.” 
I  4  44  Who  told  you  the  news  ?  ”  asked  Carnot. 

4  44  It  is  sure  news,”  returned  Fouche.  44  You  shall  have 
the  despatches  in  time  for  the  Bourse.” 

De  Marsay  stopped  for  a  moment.  4  They  did  not  mince 
matters  among  themselves,’  he  remarked  smiling. 

4  44  Now,  when  the  news  of  the  disaster  comes,”  Fouche 
went  on,  44  it  will  be  no  time  for  organising  the  clubs,  ap¬ 
pealing  to  patriotism,  and  making  changes  in  the  Constitu¬ 
tion.  Our  1 8th  of  Brumaire  ought  to  be  ready  by  then.” 

4  44  Let  us  leave  the  Minister  of  Police  to  do  it,”  suggested 
the  diplomatist, 44  and  we  must  beware  of  Lucien.”  (Lucien 
Bonaparte  was  at  that  time  Minister  of  the  Interior.) 

4  44  1  can  hold  him  in,”  said  Fouche. 

4  44  Gentlemen  !  ”  exclaimed  Sieyes,  44  our  Directory  shall 
not  be  at  the  mercy  of  anarchy  and  change.  We  will 
organise  an  oligarchy,  a  senate  composed  of  life  members, 
an  elective  assembly  in  our  control.  For  we  must  profit 
by  the  mistakes  of  the  past.” 

4  44  With  that  system  I  shall  have  a  quiet  life,”  said  the 
Bishop. 

4  44  Find  a  man  that  we  can  trust  with  the  correspondence 
with  Moreau  ;  for  the  Army  of  Germany  will  be  our  one 

[resource  !  ”  cried  Carnot,  deep  in  thought. 

De  Marsay  paused.  4  In  truth,  these  men  were  right, 
gentlemen  !  ’  he  said.  4  They  behaved  like  great  men  in  the 
crisis;  and  I  should  have  done  as  they  did. 


234  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

4  44  Gentlemen  !  ”  .  .  .  exclaimed  Sieyes  in  stern,  sol¬ 
emn  tones. 

4  Every  one  present  understood  perfectly  well  what  was 
meant  by  that  word  44  gentlemen.”  The  same  promise,  the 
same  loyalty,  could  be  read  in  all  their  faces ;  a  promise  of 
absolute  silence  and  complete  solidarity  in  case  Bonaparte 
should  return  in  triumph. 

444  We  all  of  us  know  what  we  have  to  do,”  added  Fouche. 

4  44  Sieyes  meanwhile  had  slipped  the  bolt  noiselessly  back. 
His  priest’s  ear  had  served  him  well.  Lucien  came  in. 

4  44  Good  news,  gentlemen  !  A  courier  has  brought  Ma¬ 
dame  Bonaparte  a  few  words  from  the  First  Consul.  He 
has  made  a  beginning  with  a  victory  at  Montebello.” 

4  The  three  ministers  looked  in  each  other’s  faces. 

4  44  Was  it  a  general  engagement  ?  ”  asked  Carnot. 

4  44  No,  a  battle.  Lannes  covered  himself  with  glory.  It 
was  a  bloody  encounter.  Lannes  with  ten  thousand  men 
was  attacked  by  eighteen  thousand,  and  saved  by  a  division 
that  came  up  to  his  support.  Ott  is  in  full  flight.  In  fact, 
Melas’s  line  of  operations  has  been  cut.” 

4  44  When  did  this  take  place  ?  ”  asked  Carnot. 

4  44  On  the  8th,”  Lucien  replied. 

4  44  And  this  is  the  13th,”  returned  the  sagacious  Minister. 
44  Well,  to  all  appearance  the  fate  of  France  is  staked  on 
the  fortune  of  war  at  this  moment.”  (And  as  a  matter  of 
fact  the  battle  of  Marengo  began  at  daybreak  on  the  14th 
of  June.) 

4  44  Four  days  of  mortal  suspense  !  ”  said  Lucien. 

4  44  Mortal  ?  ”  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Relations  repeated 
coolly  with  a  questioning  look. 

4  44  Four  days,”  said  Fouche. 

4  An  eye-witness  assured  me  that  the  two  consuls  only 
heard  the  news  when  the  six  men  returned  to  the  salon.  It 
was  then  four  o’clock  in  the  morning. 

4  Fouche  was  the  first  to  go.  His  was  a  profound  and 
extraordinary  genius,  working  in  the  shadow,  and  little 


Conclusion 


235 

known ;  yet  he  was  an  equal  surely  of  a  Philip  II,  a  Tibe¬ 
rius,  or  a  Borgia.  He  behaved  after  the  Walcheren  affair 
like  a  consummate  tactician,  a  great  statesman,  and  a  far¬ 
sighted  administrator.  He  was  the  one  minister  that 
Napoleon  had ;  and  you  know  that  he  alarmed  Napoleon  at 
the  time  of  which  I  speak.  Fouche,  Massena,  and  the 
Prince  are  the  three  greatest  men,  the  three  wisest  heads, 
that  I  know  in  diplomacy,  war,  and  government.  If  Napo¬ 
leon  had  frankly  associated  them  with  his  work  there  would 
be  no  Europe  now  but  a  vast  French  empire  instead. 
Fouche  only  became  estranged  from  Napoleon  when  he  saw 
Sieyes  and  the  Prince  de  Talleyrand  set  aside. 

c  This  was  what  he  did,  working  beneath  the  surface  with 
infernal  activity.  In  the  space  of  three  days,  without  show¬ 
ing  his  hand,  he  stirred  up  the  ashes  and  organised  that  gen¬ 
eral  agitation  which  hung  over  the  whole  of  France  and 
revived  the  Republican  energy  of  1793. 

c  As  some  light  must  be  thrown  on  this  dark  corner  of 
our  story,  I  must  tell  you  that  all  the.  Republican  plots 
against  the  life  of  the  victor  of  Marengo  may  be  traced  to 
this  agitation.  It  was  the  work  of  a  man  who  held  all  the 
threads  of  the  dispersed  party  of  the  Mountain.  The  con¬ 
sciousness  of  the  harm  that  he  had  done  gave  Fouche  firm¬ 
ness  sufficient  to  point  out  to  Bonaparte  that,  contrary  to 
the  opinion  of  the  latter,  there  were  more  Republicans  than 
Royalists  mixed  up  in  these  plots. 

c  Fouche  understood  men  to  admiration.  He  counted 
upon  Sieyes  because  Sieyes’s  ambition  had  been  dis¬ 
appointed;  upon  Talleyrand  because  the  prince  was  a 
grand  seigneur ;  upon  Carnot,  because  he  knew  Carnot’s 
profound  honesty ;  but  he  had  his  fears  of  our  man  of 
to-night,  and  this  was  how  he  set  about  committing  him. 
Malin  was  only  Malin  in  those  days,  and  Malin  was  in 
correspondence  with  Louis  XVIII.  The  Minister  of 
Police  accordingly  set  Malin  to  draft  the  proclamations 
of  the  Revolutionary  government,  with  its  enactments  and 


236  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

decrees.  Factious  persons  who  took  part  in  the  18th  of 
Brumaire  were  declared  outlaws.  And  more,  far  more 
than  this,  the  unwilling  accomplice  was  obliged  to  have  the 
necessary  quantity  of  placards  printed,  and  to  store  them 
in  packages  in  his  own  house.  The  printer  was  arrested 
as  a  conspirator  (for  a  Revolutionary  printer  had  been  pur¬ 
posely  chosen),  and  the  police  kept  him  for  a  couple  of 
months  before  they  set  him  at  liberty.  The  man  died  in 
1816  in  the  firm  belief  that  there  had  been  a  conspiracy 
set  afoot  by  the  Mountain. 

c  One  of  the  most  curious  pieces  of  acting  on  the  part  of 
Fouche’s  police  was,  beyond  question,  the  scene  after  the 
arrival  of  the  first  courier  with  the  news  of  the  loss  of  the 
battle  of  Marengo.  The  first  banker  of  the  day  had  an 
agent  at  the  seat  of  war.  The  battle  went  against  Napo¬ 
leon,  as  you  may  remember,  until  about  seven  o’clock  in 
the  evening.  At  noon  the  banker’s  agent  considered  that 
the  French  army  was  hopelessly  lost,  and  hastened  to  de¬ 
spatch  a  courier.  The  Minister  of  Police  had  sent  for  bill¬ 
posters  and  criers ;  and  a  trusty  adherent  had  arrived  with 
a  waggon-load  of  the  printed  bills,  when  the  courier,  sent 
off  in  the  evening,  using  his  utmost  diligence,  arrived  with 
the  news  of  a  victory  that  sent  France  fairly  frantic  with 

j°y- 

c  Heavy  sums  were  lost  on  the  Bourse.  But  the  army  of 
bill-posters  and  criers  were  bidden  to  wait  till  the  placards 
extolling  the  victory  and  the  First  Consul  could  be  printed, 
and  they  published  these  instead  of  the  proclamation  of  out¬ 
lawry  and  the  political  death  of  Bonaparte. 

c  Malin  knew  that  the  whole  responsibility  of  the 
plot  was  sure  to  fall  on  his  shoulders.  He  was  so 
frightened  that  he  carted  the  packages  of  printed  matter 
down  to  Gondreville  by  night,  and  no  doubt  he  buried  the 
unlucky  papers  in  the  cellars  of  the  chateau  that  he  had 
bought  here  under  the  name  of  another  man,  —  he  nomi¬ 
nated  him  as  president  of  a  Court  Imperial,  —  a  man 


Conclusion  237 

railed  —  Marion ;  that  was  his  name.  Then  Malin  went 
>ack  to  Paris  in  time  enough  to  congratulate  the  First 
Consul. 

c  Napoleon  came  hurrying  back  from  Italy  after  the 
cattle  of  Marengo,  as  you  know,  with  startling  haste ;  and 
or  those  who  know  the  secret  history  of  the  time,  it  is 
certain  that  a  message  from  Lucien  was  the  cause  of  his 
Drompt  return.  Lucien  had  an  inkling  of  the  attitude  of  the 
Mountain  party  ;  he  had  no  idea  of  the  quarter  from  which 
:he  wind  blew,  but  he  was  afraid  of  a  storm.  He  was 
ncapable  of  suspecting  the  three  ministers ;  the  cause  of 
the  movement,  he  thought,  was  the  hostile  feeling  aroused 
oy  his  brother  on  the  18th  of  Brumaire,  together  with  the 
firm  belief  that  the  check  in  Italy  was  irreparable,  a  belief 
largely  shared  at  the  time  by  the  rest  of  the  men  of  1793. 
The  cry,  “  Down  with  the  tyrant !  ”  shouted  at  St.  Cloud 
was  always  ringing  in  Lucien’s  ears. 

c  The  battle  of  Marengo  detained  Napoleon  in  the  Lom¬ 
bard  plain  till  the  25th  of  June.  On  the  2d  of  July  he 
arrived  in  France.  Just  try  to  picture  the  faces  of  the  five 
conspirators  as  they  congratulated  the  First  Consul  at  the 
Tuileries  on  his  victory  !  In  that  very  room  Fouche  told 
the  tribune  (for  Malin  had  a  turn  as  a  tribune)  to  wait  a 
while  yet,  and  that  all  was  not  over.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  seemed  to  Fouche  and  to  M.  de  Talleyrand  that  the 
First  Consul  was  not  quite  so  much  wedded  to  the  Revolu¬ 
tion  as  they  themselves  were ;  and  so,  for  their  greater 
safety,  they  buckled  him  thereunto  by  the  affair  of  the  Due 
d’Enghien.  You  can  trace  the  execution  of  that  prince,  by 
visible  ramifications,  back  to  the  plot  woven  that  night  in 
the  Hotel  of  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Relations,  at  the  time 
of  the  Marengo  campaign.  Certainly,  at  this  day,  it  is 
plain  to  any  one  who  has  known  well-informed  persons,  that 
Bonaparte  was  duped  like  a  child  by  M.  de  Talleyrand  and 
Fouche.  Ambassadors  from  the  House  of  Bourbon  were 
making  overtures  to  the  First  Consul  at  that  time.  Talley- 


238  A  Gondreville  Mystery 

rand  and  Fouche  wanted  to  make  a  final  breach  between 
them.’ 

c  Talleyrand  was  playing  a  game  of  whist  at  Madame  de 
Luynes’s,’  began  one  of  de  Marsay’s  audience.  c  At  three 
o’clock  in  the  morning  he  drew  out  his  watch  and  inter¬ 
rupted  the  game  to  ask  his  three  companions,  quite  suddenly 
and  without  any  preface,  “  whether  the  Prince  de  Conde 
had  any  child  beside  the  Due  d’Enghien.”  So  absurd  a 
question  in  M.  de  Talleyrand’s  mouth  caused  the  greatest 
astonishment.  —  “Why  do  you  ask,  when  you  know  so 
well  that  he  has  none?”  said  they.  —  “To  inform  you 
that  the  House  of  Conde  has  come  to  an  end  at  this 
moment.”  —  M.  de  Talleyrand  had  been  at  the  Hotel  de 
Luynes  since  the  evening  began  ;  he  knew,  no  doubt,  that 
it  was  impossible  that  Bonaparte  should  grant  a  pardon.’ 

c  But  all  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  Madame  de  Cinq- 
Cygne,  that  I  can  see,’  said  Rastignac  to  de  Marsay. 

c  Ah !  you  were  so  young,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  for¬ 
got  the  conclusion.  You  know  that  the  Comte  de 
Gondreville  was  kidnapped.  The  affair  cost  the  lives  of 
the  two  Simeuses,  and  of  d’Hauteserre’s  elder  brother ; 
d’Hauteserre  married  Mademoiselle  de  Cinq-Cygne,  and 
became  first  the  Comte  and  afterwards  the  Marquis  de 
Cinq-Cygne - ’ 

Several  persons,  however,  had  not  heard  the  story ;  and 
at  their  request,  de  Marsay  gave  the  history  of  the  trial, 
saying  that  the  five  mysterious  persons  were  tools  sent 
down  by  the  general  police  to  destroy  the  very  packages 
of  printed  matter  which  the  Comte  de  Gondreville  had 
himself  come  down  to  burn,  when  he  believed  that  the 
Empire  was  an  assured  fact. 

CI  suspect,’  said  de  Marsay,  c  that  Fouche  made  search 
at  the  same  time  for  proofs  of  the  correspondence  between 
Gondreville  and  Louis  XVIII.  There  had  been  an  under¬ 
standing  between  them  all  along,  —  even  during  the  Terror. 
But  in  this  deplorable  business  there  was  an  animus  on 


Conclusion  239 

:he  part  of  the  principal  agent.  He  is  living  yet.  He  is 
Dne  of  the  great  men  that  can  fill  subordinate  positions ; 
ie  has  distinguished  himself  by  astonishing  feats.  They 
vill  not  find  his  like  again.  It  seems  that  Mademoiselle 
Ie  Cinq-Cygne  treated  him  uncivilly  when  he  went  down 
.0  arrest  the  Simeuses.  So,  Madame,  you  have  the  secret 
T  the  affair.  You  can  explain  it  to  the  Marquise  de 
Cinq-Cygne,  and  assist  her  to  understand  why  Louis 
XVIII  kept  silence  about  it.’ 

Paris,  January ,  1841. 


AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  TERROR 

To  Monsieur  Guyonnet-Merville 

Is  it  not  a  necessity  to  explain  to  a  public  curious  to  know 
everything ,  how  I  came  to  be  sufficiently  learned  in  the  law  to 
carry  on  the  business  of  my  little  world ?  And  in  so  doing ,  am 
I  not  bound  to  put  on  record  the  memory  of  the  amiable  and 
intelligent  man  who ,  meeting  Scribe  ( another  clerk-amateuf  at 
a  ball ,  said ,  c  fust  give  the  office  a  turn ;  there  is  work  for 
you  there ,  I  assure  you  ’  ?  But  do  you  need  this  public  testimony 
to  feel  assured  of  the  affection  of  the  writer  ? 

De  Balzac. 

On  the  22d  of  January,  1793,  towards  eight  o’clock  in 
the  evening,  an  old  lady  came  down  the  steep  street  that 
comes  to  an  end  opposite  the  Church  of  Saint  Laurent  in 
the  Faubourg  Saint  Martin.  It  had  sno\^fd  so  heavily  all 
day  long  that  the  lady’s  footsteps  were-’lstarcely  audible; 
the  streets  were  deserted,  and  a  feelntg  of  dread,  not 
unnatural  amid  the  silence,  was  further  increased  by  the 
whole  extent  of  the  Terror  beneath  which  France  was 
groaning  in  those  days ;  what  was  more,  the  old  lady  so 
far  had  met  no  one  by  the  way.  Her  sight  had  long  been 
failing,  so  that  the  few  foot  passengers  dispersed  like 
shadows  in  the  distance  over  the  wide  thoroughfare  through 
the  faubourg,  were  quite  invisible  to  her  by  the  light  of  the 
lanterns. 

She  had  passed  the  end  of  the  Rue  des  Morts,  when  she 
fancied  that  she  could  hear  the  firm,  heavy  tread  of  a  man 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  243 

t  Forgive  me  !  ’  she  said,  with  a  childlike  sweetness  in 
:r  tones.  Then,  drawing  a  gold  louis  from  her  pocket, 
ie  held  it  out  to  the  pastry-cook.  ‘  That  is  the  price 
rreed  upon,’  she  added. 

There  is  a  kind  of  want  that  is  felt  instinctively  by  those 
ho  know  want.  The  man  and  his  wife  looked  at  one 
lother,  then  at  the  elderly  woman  before  them,  and  read 
ie  same  thoughts  in  each  other’s  eyes.  That  bit  of  gold 
as  so  plainly  the  last.  Her  hands  shook  a  little  as  she 
fid  it  out,  looking  at  it  sadly  but  ungrudgingly,  as  one  who 
nows  the  full  extent  of  the  sacrifice.  Hunger  and  penury 
ad  carved  lines  as  easy  to  read  in  her  face  as  the  traces  of 
sceticism  and  fear.  There  were  vestiges  of  by-gone 
fiendour  in  her  clothes.  She  was  dressed  in  threadbare 
lk,  a  neat  but  well-worn  mantle,  and  daintily  mended 
ice, —  in  the  rags  of  former  grandeur,  in  short.  The 
aopkeeper  and  his  wife,  drawn  two  ways  by  pity  and  self- 
lterest,  began  by  lulling  their  consciences  with  words. 

‘You  seem  very  poorly,  citoyenne - ’ 

‘Perhaps  Madame  might  like  to  take  something,’  the 
fife  broke  in. 

‘  We  have  some  very  nice  broth,’  added  the  pastry-cook. 

‘And  it  is  so  cold,’  continued  his  wife;  ‘perhaps  you 
ave  caught  a  chill,  Madame,  on  your  way  here.  But  you 
an  rest  and  warm  yourself  a  bit.’ 

‘  We  are  not  so  black  as  the  devil !  ’  cried  the  man. 

The  kindly  intention  in  the  words  and  tones  of  the 
haritable  couple  won  the  old  lady’s  confidence.  She  said 
hat  a  strange  man  had  been  following  her,  and  she  was 
fraid  to  go  home  alone. 

‘  Is  that  all  ?  ’  returned  he  of  the  red  bonnet ;  ‘  wait  for 
ie,  citoyenne.’ 

He  handed  the  gold  coin  to  his  wife,  and  then  went  out 
0  put  on  his  National  Guard’s  uniform,  impelled,  thereto, 
iy  the  idea  of  making  some  adequate  return  for  the  money ; 
n  idea  that  sometimes  slips  into  a  tradesman’s  head  when 


244  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

he  has  been  prodigiously  overpaid  for  goods  of  no  grea 
value.  He  took  up  his  cap,  buckled  on  his  sabre,  an 
came  out  in  full  dress.  But  his  wife  had  had  time  t) 
reflect,  and  reflection,  as  not  unfrequently  happens,  close* 
the  hand  that  kindly  intentions  had  opened.  Feelin- 
frightened  and  uneasy  lest  her  husband  might  be  draw, 
into  something  unpleasant,  she  tried  to  catch  at  the  skir 
of  his  coat,  to  hold  him  back,  but  he,  good  soul,  obeyin. 
his  charitable  first  thought,  brought  out  his  offer  to  se 
the  lady  home,  before  his  wife  could  stop  him. 

c  The  man  of  whom  the  citoyenne  is  afraid  is  sti 
prowling  about  the  shop,  it  seems,’  she  said  sharply. 
c  I  am  afraid  so,’  the  lady  said  innocently. 
c  How  if  it  is  a  spy  ?  .  .  .  a  plot  ?  .  .  .  Don’t  gcj 

And  take  the  box  away  from  her - ’ 

The  words  whispered  in  the  pastry-cook’s  ear  cooled  hi 
hot  fit  of  courage  down  to  zero. 

c  Oh  !  I  will  just  go  out  and  say  a  word  or  two.  I  wi¬ 
nd  you  of  him  soon  enough,’  he  exclaimed,  as  he  bounce 
out  of  the  shop. 

The  old  lady  meanwhile,  passive  as  a  child  and  almos 
dazed,  sat  down  on  her  chair  again.  But  the  hones 
pastry-cook  came  back  directly.  A  countenance  re, 
enough  to  begin  with,  and  further  flushed  by  the  bake 
house  fire,  was  suddenly  blanched ;  such  terror  perturbe 
him  that  he  reeled  as  he  walked,  and  stared  about  hir) 
like  a  drunken  man. 

c  Miserable  aristocrat !  Do  you  want  to  have  our  head 
cut  off?’  he  shouted  furiously.  cYou  just  take  to  youi 
heels  and  never  show  yourself  here  again.  Don’t  com! 
to  me  for  materials  for  your  plots.’ 

He  tried,  as  he  spoke,  to  take  away  the  little  box  whic  i 
she  had  slipped  into  one  of  her  pockets.  But  at  the  touc 
of  a  profane  hand  on  her  clothes,  the  stranger  recovere 
youth  and  activity  for  a  moment,  preferring  to  face  th 
dangers  of  the  street  with  no  protector  save  God,  to  th 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  245 

ss  of  the  thing  that  she  had  just  paid  for.  She  sprang 
;  the  door,  flung  it  open,  and  disappeared,  leaving  the 
.isband  and  wife  dumfounded  and  quaking  with  fright. 

>  Once  outside  in  the  street,  she  started  away  at  a  quick 
alk;  but  her  strength  soon  failed  her.  She  heard  the 
>und  of  the  snow  crunching  under  a  heavy  step,  and  knew 
lat  the  pitiless  spy  was  on  her  track.  She  was  obliged 

>  top.  He  stopped  likewise.  From  sheer  terror,  or 
ick  of  intelligence,  she  did  not  dare  to  speak  or  to  look 
t  him.  She  went  slowly  on ;  the  man  slackened  his  pace 
nd  fell  behind  so  that  he  could  still  keep  her  in  sight, 
le  might  have  been  her  very  shadow. 

Nine  o’clock  struck  as  the  silent  man  and  woman  passed 
gain  by  the  Church  of  Saint  Laurent.  It  is  in  the  nature 
f  things  that  calm  must  succeed  to  violent  agitation,  even 
a  the  weakest  soul ;  for  if  feeling  is  infinite,  our  capacity 
o  feel  is  limited.  So,  as  the  stranger  lady  met  with  no 
larm  from  her  supposed  persecutor,  she  tried  to  look  upon 
’lim  as  an  unknown  friend  anxious  to  protect  her.  She 
hought  of  all  the  circumstances  in  which  the  stranger  had 
appeared,  and  put  them  together,  as  if  to  find  some  ground 
or  this  comforting  theory,  and  felt  inclined  to  credit  him 
vith  good  intentions  rather  than  bad. 

Forgetting  the  fright  that  he  had  given  the  pastry-cook, 
;he  walked  on  with  a  firmer  step  through  the  upper  end 
jf  the  Faubourg  Saint  Martin ;  and  another  half-hour’s 
aralk  brought  her  to  a  house  at  the  corner  where  the  road 
:o  the  Barriere  de  Pantin  turns  off  from  the  main  thor¬ 
oughfare.  Even  at  this  day,  the  place  is  one  of  the  least 
frequented  parts  of  Paris.  The  north  wind  sweeps  over 
the  Buttes-Chaumont  and  Belleville,  and  whistles  through 
the  houses  (the  hovels  rather),  scattered  over  an  almost 
|i  uninhabited  low-lying  waste,  where  the  fences  are  heaps 
'  of  earth  and  bones.  It  was  a  desolate-looking  place,  a 
fitting  refuge  for  despair  and  misery. 

The  sight  of  it  appeared  to  make  an  impression  upon 


246  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

the  relentless  pursuer  of  a  poor  creature  so  daring  as  to 
walk  alone  at  night  through  the  silent  streets.  He  stood 
in  thought,  and  seemed  by  his  attitude  to  hesitate.  She 
could  see  him  dimly  now,  under  the  street  lamp  that  sent 
a  faint,  flickering  light  through  the  fog.  Fear  gave  her 
eyes.  She  saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  something  sinister 
about  the  stranger’s  features.  Her  old  terrors  awoke ; 
she  took  advantage  of  a  kind  of  hesitation  on  his  part, 
slipped  through  the  shadows  to  the  door  of  the  solitary 
house,  pressed  a  spring,  and  vanished  swiftly  as  a  phantom. 
For  awhile  the  stranger  stood  motionless,  gazing  up  at 
the  house.  It  was  in  some  sort  a  type  of  the  wretched 
dwellings  in  the  suburb :  a  tumble-down  hovel,  built  of 
rough  stones,  daubed  over  with  a  coat  of  yellowish  stucco, 
and  so  riven  with  great  cracks  that  there  seemed  to  be  danger 
lest  the  slightest  puff  of  wind  might  blow  it  down.  The 
roof,  covered  with  brown  moss-grown  tiles,  had  given  way 
in  several  places,  and  looked  as  though  it  might  break  down 
altogether  under  the  weight  of  the  snow.  The  frames  of 
the  three  windows  on  each  story  were  rotten  with  damp 
and  warped  by  the  sun  ;  evidently  the  cold  must  find  its 
way  inside.  The  house  standing  thus  quite  by  itself  looked 
like  some  old  tower  that  Time  had  forgotten  to  destroy. 
A  faint  light  shone  from  the  attic  windows  pierced  at 
irregular  distances  in  the  roof;  otherwise  the  whole  build¬ 
ing  was  in  total  darkness. 

Meanwhile  the  old  lady  climbed  not  without  difficulty 
up  the  rough,  clumsily  built  staircase,  with  a  rope  by  way 
of  a  hand-rail.  At  the  door  of  the  lodging  in  the  attic  she 
stopped  and  tapped  mysteriously;  an  old  man  brought  for¬ 
ward  a  chair  for  her.  She  dropped  into  it  at  once. 

c  Hide  !  hide  !  ’  she  exclaimed,  looking  up  at  him.  c  Sel¬ 
dom  as  we  leave  the  house,  everything  that  we  do  is  known, 

and  every  step  is  watched - ’ 

c  What  is  it  now  ?  ’  asked  another  elderly  woman,  sitting 
by  the  fire. 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  247 

‘The  man  that  has  been  prowling  about  the  house 
;sterday  and  to-day,  followed  me  to-night 
|  At  those  words  all  three  dwellers  in  the  wretched  den 
ioked  in  each  other’s  faces  and  did  not  try  to  dissimulate 
le  profound  dread  that  they  felt.  The  old  priest  was 
le  least  overcome,  probably  because  he  ran  the  greatest 
inger.  If  a  brave  man  is  weighed  down  by  great  calami- 
es  or  the  yoke  of  persecution,  he  begins,  as  it  were,  by 
laking  the  sacrifice  of  himself ;  and  thereafter  every  day  of 
is  life  becomes  one  more  victory  snatched  from  fate.  But 
-om  the  way  in  which  the  women  looked  at  him  it  was 
asy  to  see  that  their  intense  anxiety  was  on  his  account. 

‘  Why  should  our  faith  in  God  fail  us,  my  sisters  ?  ’  he 
aid,  in  low  but  fervent  tones.  ‘We  sang  His  praises 
hrough  the  shrieks  of  murderers  and  their  victims  at  the 
Carmelites.  If  it  was  His  will  that  I  should  come  alive 
:  ,ut  of  that  butchery,  it  was,  no  doubt,  because  I  was 
eserved  for  some  fate  which  I  am  bound  to  endure  without 
nurmuring.  God  will  protect  His  own;  He  can  do  with 
hem  according  to  His  will.  It  is  for  you,  not  for  me  that 
ve  must  think.’ 

cj^o,’  answered  one  of  the  women.  ‘What  is  our  life 
tompared  with  a  priest’s  life  ?  ’ 

‘  Once  outside  the  Abbaye  de  Chelles,  I  look  upon  my- 
lelf  as  dead,’  added  the  nun  who  had  not  left  the  house, 
vhile  the  Sister  that  had  just  returned,  held  out  the  little 
}ox  to  the  priest. 

‘Here  are  the  wafers  ...  but  I  can  hear  some  one 
:oming  up  the  stairs  !  ’ 

At  this,  the  three  began  to  listen.  The  sound  ceased. 

‘  Do  not  be  alarmed  if  somebody  tries  to  come  in,’  said 
the  priest.  ‘  Somebody  on  whom  we  could  depend  was  to 
make  all  necessary  arrangements  for  crossing  the  frontier. 
He  is  to  come  for  the  letters  that  I  have  written  to  the 
Due  de  Langeais  and  the  Marquis  de  Beauseant,  asking 
them  to  find  some  way  of  taking  you  out  of  this  dreadful 


248  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

country,  and  away  from  the  death  or  the  misery  that  waits 
for  you  here.’ 

‘ But  are  y°u  not  going  to  follow  us  ?  ’  the  nuns  criec 
under  their  breath,  almost  despairingly. 

‘  My  Post  is  here  where  the  sufferers  are,’  the  priest  said 
simply,  and  the  women  said  no  more,  but  looked  at  theii 
guest  in  reverent  admiration.  He  turned  to  the  nun  with 
the  wafers. 

c  Sister  Marthe,’  he  said,  4  the  messenger  will  say  Fiat 
V iluntas  in  answer  to  the  word  Hosanna .’ 

4  There  is  some  one  on  the  stairs !  ’  cried  the  other  nun, 
opening  a  hiding-place  contrived  in  the  roof. 

This  time  it  was  easy  to  hear,  amid  the  deepest  silence,  a 
sound  echoing  up  the  staircase :  it  was  a  man’s  tread  on 
the  steps  covered  with  dried  lumps  of  mud.  With  some 
difficulty  the  priest  slipped  into  a  kind  of  cupboard,  and  the 
nun  flung  some  clothes  over  him. 

4  You  can  shut  the  door,  Sister  Agathe,’  he  said  in  a 
muffled  voice. 

He  was  scarcely  hidden  before  three  raps  sounded  on 
the  door.  The  holy  women  looked  into  each  other’s  eyes 
for  counsel,  and  dared  not  say  a  single  word. 

They  seemed  both  to  be  about  sixty  years  of  age.  They 
had  lived  out  of  the  world  for  forty  years,  and  had  grown 
so  accustomed  to  the  life  of  the  convent  that  they  could 
scarcely  imagine  any  other.  To  them,  as  to  plants  kept  in 
a  hot-house,  a  change  of  air  meant  death.  And  so,  when 
the  grating  was  broken  down  one  morning,  they  knew  with 
a  shudder  that  they  were  free.  The  effect  produced  by 
the  Revolution  upon  their  simple  souls  is  easy  to  imagine; 
it  produced  a  temporary  imbecility  not  natural  to  them. 
They  could  not  bring  the  ideas  learned  in  the  convent  into 
harmony  with  life  and  its  difficulties ;  they  could  not  even 
understand  their  own  position.  They  were  like  children 
whom  others  have  always  cared  for,  deserted  by  their 
maternal  providence.  And  as  a  child  cries,  they  betook 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  249 

hemselves  to  prayer.  Now,  in  the  presence  of  imminent 
langer,  they  were  mute  and  passive,  knowing  no  defence 
ave  Christian  resignation. 

The  man  at  the  door,  taking  silence  for  consent,  pre- 
iented  himself,  and  the  women  shuddered.  This  was  the 
irowler  that  had  been  making  inquiries  about  them  for 
!ome  time  past.  But  they  looked  at  him  with  frightened 
:uriosity,  much  as  shy  children  stare  silently  at  a  stranger ; 
and  neither  of  them  moved.  . 

The  new-comer  was  a  tall,  burly  man.  Nothing  in  his 
behaviour,  bearing,  or  expression  suggested  malignity  as,  fol¬ 
lowing  the  example  set  by  the  nuns,  he  stood  motionless, 
while  his  eyes  travelled  round  the  room. 

Two  straw  mats  laid  upon  planks  did  duty  as  beds.  On 
the  one  table,  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  stood  a 
brass  candlestick,  several  plates,  three  knives,  and  a  round 
loaf.  A  small  fire  burned  in  the  grate.  A  few  bits  of 
wood  in  a  heap  in  a  corner  bore  further  witness  to  the 
poverty  of  the  recluses.  You  had  only  to  look  at  the 
coating  of  paint  on  the  walls  to  discover  the  bad  condition 
of  the  roof,  and  the  ceiling  was  a  perfect  network  of  brown 
stains  made  by  rain-water.  A  relic,  saved  no  doubt  from 
the  wreck  of  the  Abbaye  de  Chelles,  stood  like  an  ornament 
on  the  chimney-piece.  Three  chairs,  two  boxes,  and  a 
rickety  chest  of  drawers  completed  the  list  of  the  furniture, 
but  a  door  beside  the  fireplace  suggested  an  inner  room 
beyond. 

The  brief  inventory  was  soon  made  by  the  personage  intro¬ 
duced  into  their  midst  under  such  terrible  auspices.  It  was 
with  a  compassionate  expression  that  he  turned  to  the  two 
women ;  he  looked  benevolently  at  them,  and  seemed,  at 
least,  as  much  embarrassed  as  they.  But  the  strange 
silence  did  not  last  long,  for  presently  the  stranger  began  to 
understand.  He  saw  how  inexperienced,  how  helpless 
(mentally  speaking),  the  two  poor  creatures  were,  and  he 
tried  to  speak  gently. 


250  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

4 1  am  far  from  coming  as  an  enemy,  citoyenftes _ 

he  began.  Then  he  suddenly  broke  off  and  went  on 
4  Sisters,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you,  believe  me,  ] 
shall  have  no  share  in  it.  I  have  come  to  ask  a  favou 
of  you/ 

Still  the  women  were  silent. 

4  If  I  am  annoying  you  —  if — if  I  am  intruding,  speak 
freely,  and  I  will  go;  but  you  must  understand  that  I  am 
entirely  at  your  service ;  that  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you, 
you  need  not  fear  to  make  use  of  me.  I,  and  I  only,  per¬ 
haps,  am  above  the  law,  since  there  is  no  King  now.’ 

There  was  such  a  ring  of  sincerity  in  the  words  that 
Sister  Agathe  hastily  pointed  to  a  chair  as  if  to  bid  their 
guest  be  seated.  Sister  Agathe  came  of  the  house  of  Lan- 
geais  ;  her  manner  seemed  to  indicate  that  once  she  had 
been  familiar  with  brilliant  scenes,  and  had  breathed  the  air 
of  courts.  The  stranger  seemed  half  pleased,  half  dis¬ 
tressed  when  he  understood  her  invitation ;  he  waited  to  sit 
down  until  the  women  were  seated. 

4  You  are  giving  shelter  to  a  reverend  father  who  refused 
to  take  the  oath,  and  escaped  the  massacres  at  the  Carmel¬ 
ites  by  a  miracle - ’ 

4  Hosanna  !  ’  Sister  Agathe  exclaimed  eagerly,  interrupt¬ 
ing  the  stranger,  while  she  watched  him  with  curious  eyes. 

4  That  is  not  the  name,  I  think,’  he  said. 

4  But,  Monsieur,’  Sister  Marthe  broke  in  quickly,  4  we 
have  no  priest  here,  and - ’ 

4  In  that  case  you  should  be  more  careful  and  on  your 
guard,’  he  answered  gently,  stretching  out  his  hand  for  a 
breviary  that  lay  on  the  table.  4 1  do  not  think  that  you 
know  Latin,  and - ’ 

He  stopped ;  for,  at  the  sight  of  the  great  emotion  in  the 
faces  of  the  two  poor  nuns,  he  was  afraid  that  he  had  gone 
too  far.  They  were  trembling,  and  the  tears  stood  in  their 
eyes. 

4  Do  not  fear,’  he  said  frankly.  4 1  know  your  names 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  251 

and  the  name  of  your  guest.  Three  days  ago  I  heard  of 
your  distress  and  devotion  to  the  venerable  Abbe  de - ’ 

‘Hush!’  Sister  Agathe  cried,  in  the  simplicity  of  her 
heart,  as  she  laid  her  finger  on  her  lips. 

‘You  see,  Sisters,  that  if  I  had  conceived  the  horrible 
idea  of  betraying  you,  I  could  have  given  you  up  already, 
more  than  once - ’ 

At  the  words  the  priest  came  out  of  his  hiding-place  and 
stood  in  their  midst. 

‘  I  cannot  believe,  Monsieur,  that  you  can  be  one  of  our 
persecutors,’  he  said,  addressing  the ^ stranger,  ‘and  I  trust 
you.  What  do  you  want  with  me  ? 

The  priest’s  holy  confidence,  the  nobleness  expressed  in 
every  line  in  his  face,  would  have  disarmed  a  murderer.  For 
a  moment  the  mysterious  stranger,  who  had  brought  an 
element  of  excitement  into  lives  of  misery  and  resignation, 
gazed  at  the  little  group ;  then  he  turned  to  the  priest  and 
said,  as  if  making  a  confidence,  ‘  Father,  I  came  to  beg  you 
to  celebrate  a  mass  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of— of— of 
an  august  personage  whose  body  will  never  rest  in  conse- 
crated  earth - ■’ 

Involuntarily  the  abbe  shivered.  As  yet,  neither  or  the 
Sisters  understood  of  whom  the  stranger  was  speaking-, 
they  sat  with  their  heads  stretched  out  and  faces  turned 
toward  the  speaker,  curiosity  in  their  whole  attitude.  The 
priest,  meanwhile,  was  scrutinising  the  stranger;  tnere  was 
no  mistaking  the  anxiety  in  the  man’s  face,  the  ardent 
entreaty  in  his  eyes. 

c  Very  well,’  returned  the  abbe.  c  Come  back  at  mid- 
night.  I  shall  be  ready  to  celebrate  the  only  funeral  service 
that  it  is  in  our  power  to  offer  in  expiation  of  the  crime  of 
which  you  speak.’ 

A  quiver  ran  through  the  stranger,  but  a  sweet  yet 
sober  satisfaction  seemed  to  prevail  over  a  hidden  anguish. 
He  took  his  leave  respectfully,  and  the  three  generous  souls 
felt  his  unspoken  gratitude. 


V 


252  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

Two  hours  later,  he  came  back  and  tapped  at  the  garret 
door.  Mademoiselle  de  Beauseant  showed  the  way  into  the 
second  room  in  their  humble  lodging.  Everything  hac 
been  made  ready.  The  Sisters  had  moved  the  old  chesi 
of  drawers  between  the  two  chimneys,  and  covered  its 
quaint  outlines  over  with  a  splendid  altar  cloth  of  green 
watered  silk. 

The  bare  walls  looked  all  the  barer,  because  the  one 
thing  that  hung  there  was  the  great  ivory  and  ebony  cruci¬ 
fix,  which  of  necessity  attracted  the  eyes.  Four  slendei 
little  altar  candles,  which  the  Sisters  had  contrived  to  fasten 
into  their  places  with  sealing-wax,  gave  a  faint  pale  light, 
almost  absorbed  by  the  walls ;  the  rest  of  the  room  lay  well- 
nigh  in  the  dark.  But  the  dim  brightness,  concentrated 
upon  the  holy  things,  looked  like  a  ray  from  Heaven  shin¬ 
ing  down  upon  the  unadorned  shrine.  The  floor  was  reek 
ing  with  damp.  An  icy  wind  swept  in  through  the  chinks 
here  and  there,  in  a  roof  that  rose  sharply  on  either  side, 
after  the  fashion  of  attic  roofs.  Nothing  could  be  less 
imposing ;  yet  perhaps,  too,  nothing  could  be  more  solemn 
than  this  mournful  ceremony-/  A  silence  so  deep  that  the) 
could  have  heard  the  faintest  sound  of  a  voice  on  the 
Route  d’Allemagne,  invested  the  night-piece  with  a  kind 
of  sombre  majesty;  while  the  grandeur  of  the  service  —  all 
the  grander  for  the  strong  contrast  with  the  poor  surround¬ 
ings  —  produced  a  feeling  of  reverent  awe. 

The  Sisters  kneeling  on  either  side  the  altar,  regardless 
of  the  deadly  chill  from  the  wet  brick  floor,  were  engaged 
in  prayer,  while  the  priest,  arrayed  in  pontifical  vestments, 
brought  out  a  golden  chalice  set  with  gems ;  doubtless  one 
of  the  sacred  vessels  saved  from  the  pillage  of  the  Abbaye 
de  Chelles.  Beside  a  ciborium,  the  gift  of  royal  munifi¬ 
cence,  the  wine  and  water  for  the  holy  sacrifice  of  the 
mass,  stood  ready  in  two  glasses  such  as  could  scarcely  be 
found  in  the  meanest  tavern.  For  want  of  a  missal,  the 
priest  had  laid  his  breviary  on  the  altar,  and  a  common 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  .253 

earthenware  plate  was  set  for  the  washing  of  hands  that 
were  pure  and  undefiled  with  blood.  It  was  all  so  in¬ 
finitely  great,  yet  so  little,  poverty-stricken  yet  noble,  a 
mingling  of  sacred  and  profane. 

The  stranger  came  forward  reverently  to  kneel  be¬ 
tween  the  two  nuns.  But  the  priest  had  tied  crape  round 
the  chalice  of  the  crucifix,  having  no  other  way  of  marking 
the  mass  as  a  funeral  service ;  it  was  as  if  God  himself  had 
been  in  mourning.  The  man  suddenly  noticed  this,  and 
the  sight  appeared  to  call  up  some  overwhelming  memory, 
for  great  drops  of  sweat  stood  out  on  his  broad  forehead. 

Then  the  four  silent  actors  in  the  scene  looked  mysteri¬ 
ously  at  one  another ;  and  their  souls  in  emulation  seemed 
to  stir  and  communicate  the  thoughts  within  them  until  all 
were  melted  into  one  feeling  of  awe  and  pity.  It  seemed 
to  them  that  the  royal  martyr  whose  remains  had  been 
consumed  with  quicklime,  had  been  called  up  by  their 
yearning  and  now  stood,  a  shadow  in  their  midst,  in  all 
the  majesty  of  a  king.  They  were  celebrating  an  anni¬ 
versary  service  for  the  dead  whose  body  lay  elsewhere. 
Under  the  disjointed  laths  and  tiles,  four  Christians  were 
holding  a  funeral  service  without  a  coffin,  and  putting  up 
prayers  to  God  for  the  soul  of  a  King  of  France.  No 
devotion  could  be  purer  than  this.  It  was  a  wonderful  act 
of  faith  achieved  without  an  afterthought.  Surely  in  the 
sight  of  God  it  was  like  the  cup  of  cold  water  which 
counterbalances  the  loftiest  virtues.  The  prayers  put  up 
by  two  feeble  nuns  and  a  priest  represented  the  whole  Mon¬ 
archy,  and  possibly  at  the  same  time,  the  Revolution  found 
expression  in  the  stranger,  for  the  remorse  in  his  face  was 
so  great  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  think  that  he  was  ful¬ 
filling  the  vows  of  a  boundless  repentance. 

When  the  priest  came  to  the  Latin  words,  Introibo  ad 
altare  Dei  a  sudden  divine  inspiration  flashed  upon  him  ;  he 
looked  at  the  three  kneeling  figures,  the  representatives  of 
Christian  France,  and  said  instead,  as  though  to  blot  out 


25*4  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

the  poverty  of  the  garret,  cWe  are  about  to  enter  th« 
Sanctuary  of  God  !  ’ 

Those  words,  uttered  with  thrilling  earnestness,  strucl 
reverent  awe  into  the  nuns  and  the  stranger.  Under  th« 
vaulted  roof  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome,  God  would  not  hav< 
revealed  Himself  in  greater  majesty  than  here  for  the  eye 
of  the  Christians  in  that  poor  refuge;  so  true  is  it  tha 
all  intermediaries  between  God  and  the  soul  of  man  ar< 
superfluous,  and  all  the  grandeur  of  God  proceeds  fron 
Himself  alone. 

The  stranger’s  fervour  was  sincere.  One  emotioi 
blended  the  prayers  of  the  four  servants  of  God  and  th 
King  in  a  single  supplication.  The  holy  words  rang  lik 
the  music  of  heaven  through  the  silence.  At  one  mo 
ment,  tears  gathered  in  the  stranger’s  eyes.  This  wa 
during  the  Pater  Noster ;  for  the  priest  added  a  petitioi 
in  Latin,  and  his  audience  doubtless  understood  him  whei 
he  said  :  c  Et  remitt  e  scelus  regicidis  si  cut  Ludovicus  eis  remisi 
semetipse  ’ — forgive  the  regicides  as  Louis  himself  forgav* 
them. 

The  Sisters  saw  two  great  tears  trace  a  channel  dowi 
the  stranger’s  manly  cheeks  and  fall  to  the  floor.  Thei 
the  office  for  the  dead  was  recited  ;  the  Domine  salvum  fa 
regem  chanted  in  an  undertone  that  went  to  the  hearts  of 
the  faithful  Royalists,  for  they  thought  how  the  child-Kim 
for  whom  they  were  praying  was  even  then  a  captive  ii 
the  hands  of  his  enemies ;  and  a  shudder  ran  througi 
the  stranger,  as  he  thought  that  a  new  crime  might  b< 
committed,  and  that  he  could  not  choose  but  take  hi 
part  in  it. 

The  service  came  to  an  end.  The  priest  made  a  sigr 
to  the  Sisters,  and  they  withdrew.  As  soon  as  he  wa: 
left  alone  with  the  stranger,  he  went  toward  him  wit! 
a  grave,  gentle  face,  and  said,  in  fatherly  tones  :  — 

c  My  son,  if  your  hands  are  stained  with  the  blood  of 
the  royal  martyr,  confide  in  me.  There  is  no  sin  tha 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  255 

nay  not  be  blotted  out  in  the  sight  of  God  by  penitence 
is  sincere  and  touching  as  yours  appears  to  be.’ 

At  the  first  words,  the  man  started  with  terror,  in  spite 
)f  himself.  Then  he  recovered  composure,  and  looked 
juietly  at  the  astonished  priest. 

‘Father/  he  said,  and  the  other  could  not  miss  the 
:remor  in  his  voice,  4  no  one  is  more  guiltless  than  I  of 
;he  blood  shed - ’ 

4 1  am  bound  to  believe  you/  said  the  priest.  He  paused 
1  moment,  and  again  he  scrutinised  his  penitent.  But,  per¬ 
sisting  in  the  idea  that  the  man  before  him  was  one  of  the 
members  of  the  Convention,  one  of  the  timorous  voters 
who  betrayed  an  inviolable  and  anointed  head  to  save  their 
own,  he  began  again  gravely  :  — 

4  Remember,  my  son,  that  it  is  not  enough  to  have  taken 
no  active  part  in  the  great  crime  *,  that  fact  does  not  absolve 
you.  The  men  who  might  have  defended  the  King  and 
left  their  swords  in  their  scabbards,  will  have  a  very  heavy 
account  to  render  to  the  King  of  Heaven  —  Ah!  yes/  he 
added,  with  an  eloquent  shake  of  the  head,  4  heavy  indeed  ! 
—  for  by  doing  nothing  they  became  accomplices  in  the 
awful  wickedness - * 

4  But  do  you  think  that  an  indirect  participation  will  be 
punished  ? 9  the  stranger  asked  with  a  bewildered  look. 
‘There  is  the  private  soldier  commanded  to  fall  into  line  — 
is  he  actually  responsible  ?  9 

The  priest  hesitated.  The  stranger  was  glad  ;  he  had 
put  the  Royalist  precisian  in  a  dilemma,  between  the  dogma 
of  passive  obedience  on  the  one  hand  (for  the  upholders  of 
the  Monarchy  maintained  that  obedience  was  the  first  prin¬ 
ciple  of  military  law),  and  the  equally  important  dogma 
which  turns  respect  for  the  person  of  a  King  into  a  matter 
of  religion.  In  the  priest’s  indecision  he  was  eager  to  see 
a  favourable  solution  of  the  doubts  which  seemed  to  tor¬ 
ment  him.  To  prevent  too  prolonged  reflection  on  the 
part  of  the  reverend  Jansenist  he  added  :  — 


256  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

4 1  should  blush  to  offer  remuneration  of  any  kind  for  the 
funeral  service  which  you  have  just  performed  for  the  re¬ 
pose  of  the  King’s  soul  and  the  relief  of  my  conscience. 
The  only  possible  return  for  something  of  inestimable  value 
is  an  offering  likewise  beyond  price.  Will  you  deign, 
Monsieur,  to  take  my  gift  of  a  holy  relic  ?  A  day  will  per¬ 
haps  come  when  you  will  understand  its  value.’ 

As  he  spoke  the  stranger  held  out  a  box  ;  it  was  very 
small  and  exceedingly  light.  The  priest  took  it  mechani¬ 
cally,  as  it  were,  so  astonished  was  he  by  the  man’s  solemn 
words,  the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  the  reverence  with  which 
he  held  out  the  gift. 

The  two  men  went  back  together  into  the  first  room. 
The  Sisters  were  waiting  for  them. 

4  This  house  that  you  are  living  in  belongs  to  Mucius 
Scaevola,  the  plasterer  on  the  first  floor,’  he  said.  4  He  is 
well  known  in  the  Section  for  his  patriotism,  but  in  reality 
he  is  an  adherent  of  the  Bourbons.  He  used  to  be  a  hunts¬ 
man  in  the  service  of  his  Highness  the  Prince  de  Conti,  and  he 
owes  everything  to  him.  So  long  as  you  stay  in  the  house, 
you  are  safer  here  than  anywhere  else  in  France.  Do  not 
go  out.  Pious  souls  will  minister  to  your  necessities,  and 
you  can  wait  in  safety  for  better  times.  Next  year,  on 
the  2 1  st  of  January,’  —  he  could  not  hide  an  involuntary 
shudder  as  he  spoke,  — 4  next  year,  if  you  are  still  in  this 
dreary  refuge,  I  will  come  back  again  to  celebrate  the 
expiatory  mass  with  you - ’ 

He  broke  off,  bowed  to  the  three,  who  answered  not  a 
word,  gave  a  last  look  at  the  garret  with  its  signs  of  pov¬ 
erty,  and  vanished. 

Such  an  adventure  possessed  all  the  interest  of  a  romance 
in  the  lives  of  the  innocent  nuns.  So,  as  soon  as  the 
venerable  abbe  told  them  the  story  of  the  mysterious  gift, 
it  was  placed  upon  the  table,  and  by  the  feeble  light  of  the 
tallow  dip  an  indescribable  curiosity  appeared  in  the  three 
anxious  faces.  Mademoiselle  de  Langeais  opened  the  box, 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  257 

id  found  a  very  fine  lawn  handkerchief,  soiled  with  sweat; 
irker  stains  appeared  as  they  unfolded  it. 

1  That  is  blood  !  ’  exclaimed  the  priest. 

1  It  is  marked  with  a  royal  crown !  ’  cried  Sister 

Lgathe.  .  c  n 

The  women,  aghast,  allowed  the  precious  relic  to  tall, 
'or  their  simple  souls  the  mystery  that  hung  about  the 
tranger  grew  inexplicable ;  as  for  the  priest,  from  that  day 
jrth  he  did  not  even  try  to  understand  it. 

Before  very  long  the  prisoners  knew  that,  in  spite  of  the 
Terror,  some  powerful  hand  was  extended  over  them.  It 
>egan  when  they  received  firewood  and  provisions;  and 
lext  the  Sisters  knew  that  a  woman  had  lent  counsel  to 
heir  protector,  for  linen  was  sent  to  them,  and  clothes  in 
vhich  they  could  leave  the  house  without  causing  remark 
lpon  the  aristocrat’s  dress  that  they  had  been  forced  to 
year.  After  awhile  Mucius  Scaevola  gave  them  two  civic 
:ards ;  and  often  and  often  tidings  necessary  for  the  priest’s 
safety  came  to  them  in  roundabout  ways.  Warnings  and 
idvice  reached  them  so  opportunely  that  they  could  only 
lave  been  sent  by  some  person  in  the  possession  of  state 
secrets.  And,  at  a  time  when  famine  threatened  Paris, 
invisible  hands  brought  rations  of  c  white  bread  ’  for  the 
proscribed  women  in  the  wretched  garret.  Still  they 
fancied  that  Citizen  Mucius  Scaevola  was  only  the  mys¬ 
terious  instrument  of  a  kindness  always  ingenious,  and  no 
less  intelligent. 

The  noble  ladies  in  the  garret  could  no  longer  doubt  that 
their  protector  was  the  stranger  of  the  expiatory  mass  on 
the  night  of  the  22d  of  January,  1793  ;  and  a  kind  of  cult  of 
him  sprang  up  among  them.  Their  one  hope  was  in  him ; 
they  lived  through  him.  They  added  special  petitions  for 
him  to  their  prayers ;  night  and  morning  the  pious  souls 
prayed  for  his  happiness,  his  prosperity,  his  safety ;  entreat¬ 
ing  God  to  remove  all  snares  far  from  his  path,  to  deliver 


258  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

him  from  his  enemies,  to  grant  him  a  long  and  peaceful 
life.  And  with  this  daily  renewed  gratitude,  as  it  may 
be  called,  there  blended  a  feeling  of  curiosity  which  grew 
more  lively  day  by  day.  They  talked  over  the  circum¬ 
stances  of  his  first  sudden  appearance,  their  conjectures 
were  endless ;  the  stranger  had  conferred  one  more  benefit 
upon  them  by  diverting  their  minds.  Again,  and  again, 
they  said,  when  he  next  came  to  see  them  as  he  promised! 
to  celebrate  the  sad  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Louis  XVI, 
he  should  not  escape  their  friendship. 

The  night  so  impatiently  awaited  came  at  last.  At  mid¬ 
night  the  old  wooden  staircase  echoed  with  the  stranger’s 
heavy  footsteps.  They  had  made  the  best  of  their  room 
for  his  coming  ;  the  altar  was  ready,  and  this  time  the  door 
stood  open,  and  the  two  Sisters  were  out  at  the  stairhead, 
eager  to  light  the  way.  Mademoiselle  de  Langeais  even 
came  down  a  few  steps,  to  meet  their  benefactor  the 
sooner. 

c  Come,’  she  said,  with  a  quaver  in  the  affectionate  tones, 
c  come  in  ;  we  are  expecting  you.’ 

He  raised  his  face,  gave  her  a  dark  look,  and  made  no 
answer.  The  Sister  felt  as  if  an  icy  mantle  had  fallen  over 
her,  and  said  no  more.  At  the  sight  of  him,  the  glow  of 
gratitude  and  curiosity  died  away  in  their  hearts.  Perhaps 
he  was  not  so  cold,  not  so  taciturn,  not  so  stern  as  he 
seemed  to  them,  for  in  their  highly  wrought  mood  they 
were  ready  to  pour  out  their  feeling  of  friendship.  But  the 
three  poor  prisoners  understood  that  he  wished  to  be  a 
stranger  to  them ;  and  submitted.  The  priest  fancied  that 
he  saw  a  smile  on  the  man’s  lips  as  he  saw  their  prepara¬ 
tions  for  his  visit,  but  it  was  at  once  repressed.  He  heard 
mass,  said  his  prayer,  and  then  disappeared,  declining,  with 
a  few  polite  words,  Mademoiselle  de  Langeais’s  invi¬ 
tation  to  partake  of  the  little  collation  made  ready  for 
him. 

After  the  9th  Thermidor,  the  sisters  and  the  Abbe  de 


An  Episode  of  the  Terror  259 

arolles  could  go  about  Paris  without  the  least  danger, 
he  first  time  that  the  abbe  went  out  he  walked  to  a  per- 
mer’s  shop  at  the  sign  of  The  Queers  of  Roses,  kept  by  the 
itizen  Ragon  and  his  wife,  court  perfumers.  The  Ragons 
id  been  faithful  adherents  of  the  Royalist  cause ;  it  was 
trough  their  means  that  the  Vendeen  leaders  kept  up  a 
irrespondence  with  the  Princes  and  the  Royalist  Com- 
littee  in  Paris.  The  abbe,  in  the  ordinary  dress  of  the 
me,  was  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  shop— -which 
ood  between  Saint  Roch  and  the  Rue  des  Frondeurs  — 
'hen  he  saw  that  the  Rue  Saint  Honore  was  filled  with  a 
rowd  and  he  could  not  go  out. 

i  What  is  the  matter  ?  ’  he  asked  Madame  Ragon. 

‘Nothing,’  she  said;  ‘  it  is  only  the  tumbril  cart  and  the 
xecutioner  going  to  the  Place  Louis  XV.  Ah  !  we  used  to 
lee  it  often  enough  last  year ;  but  to-day,  four  days  after 
he  anniversary  of  the  twenty-first  of  January,  one  does  not 
eel  sorry  to  see  the  ghastly  procession. 

‘  Why  not  ?  ’  asked  the  abbe.  ‘  That  is  not  said  like  a 

Christian.’ 

‘Eh!  but  it  is  the  execution  of  Robespierre  s  accom- 
ilices.  They  defended  themselves  as  long  as  they  could, 
but  now  it  is  their  turn  to  go  where  they  sent  so  many 
nnocent  people.’ 

The  crowd  poured  by  like  a  flood.  The  abbe,  yielding 
o  an  impulse  of  curiosity,  looked  up  above  the  heads,  and 
here  in  the  tumbril  stood  the  man  who  had  heard  mass 
n  the  garret  three  days  ago.  > 

‘  Who  is  it  ?  ’  he  asked  ;  ‘  who  is  the  man  with - 

‘  That  is  the  headsman,’  answered  M.  Ragon,  calling 
the  executioner — the  executeur  des  hautes  oeuvres  —  by  the 
name  he  had  borne  under  the  Monarchy. 

‘Oh!  my  dear,  my  dear!  M.  l’Abbe  is  dying!’  cried 
out  old  Madame  Ragon.  She  caught  up  a  flask  of  vinegar, 
and  tried  to  restore  the  old  priest  to  consciousness. 

‘  He  must  have  given  me  the  handkerchief  that  the 


260  An  Episode  of  the  Terror 

King  used  to  wipe  his  brow  on  the  way  to  his  martyrdom,’ 
murmured  he.  ‘ .  .  .  Poor  man !  .  .  .  There  was  r> 
heart  in  the  steel  blade,  when  none  was  found  in  al 
France.  .  .  .’ 

The  perfumers  thought  that  the  poor  abbe'was  raving 

Paris,  January ,  1831. 


4 


